The Hero and the Champion
by LiveFastDieBeautiful21
Summary: The Warden-Commander of Ferelden receives a letter from an old friend, requesting that she visit Kirkwall to meet her family - the Amells. She expects a little bit of homesickness and a little bit of awkwardness, but isn't prepared for the treachery and hatred she encounters. Set at the beginning of Act 3 and details how Olivia Amell and Marian Hawke first met.
1. Chapter 1

Olivia let the wooden door swing closed behind her, taking in the rank scent of body odor and stale alcohol. Voices clamored, her appearance causing a quiet ripple in conversations around the room. Feeling sorely out of her element, Olivia quickly sat at one of the barstools, keeping her eyes down and trying not to attract the attention of the barkeep.

_Too late_.

"D'ya want something? D'ya have coin?" A large hand gripping a dirty, scruffy rag slammed down in front of Olivia. "If ya don't have coin, I can't help ya."

Smiling politely, Olivia shook her head. "I'm just waiting," she explained. "For a friend."

"Hmph."

Beneath the thick plate armor, Olivia was beginning to sweat with nervousness. _Someone_ was going to recognize her. _Maybe Alistair was right_, she thought with a little groan. _Maybe it's too dangerous. I have other priorities. But I can't just leave; I promised I'd wait here._

As she worked to steel her nerves, she caught the flash of a sword out of the corner of her eyes. A heavily armed elf with a mop of strangely white hair had taken a seat at one of the tables near Olivia. His fists were clenched above the table, and he eyed the door with a subtle scowl. A dwarf—_a strange dwarf_, Olivia thought, noting his clean-shaven face—joined the elf, leaving behind a disappointed crowd at the other end of the tavern. He was stroking a large, intricate crossbow, looking only occasionally up at the elf to laugh and shake his head.

After a moment, the dwarf gathered the crossbow and left the table. Olivia turned back to the bar, leaning forward as she realized he was making a beeline for her.

"You come here often?" the dwarf asked, hoisting himself up onto the barstool to Olivia's right.

_This is _not _happening_. Olivia slid off her heavy gauntlets, letting them clank to the bar and burying her face in her warm hands.

"Who am I kidding," the dwarf laughed. "Nobody comes here often, if they can help it. The ale is terrible." With another deep laugh, he added quietly, "Besides, I think you can afford a nicer bar, can't you, Warden-Commander?"

Olivia's hands coiled into fists. _Damn. I knew it._

"Don't worry," he promised, lowering his voice, "I won't tell anyone. I just want to know if you plan to make these visits a regular thing. I can always use new stories." He leaned forward onto the bar, folding his hands. "Like you and Alistair. Trust me – I've heard _lots_ of stories, but I'd like the truth."

"Sorry, no," Olivia apologized, not wanting to risk anyone else recognizing her. Her hazel eyes swept the room again, searching the faces for the one familiar one she was waiting for. She noticed that the elf had been joined by a woman with short red hair, something that seemed to catch the dwarf's eye as well.

"Varric Tethras," the dwarf spouted suddenly, holding a hand out for Olivia to shake. "You can share those stories later. I'll be right here." His eyes suddenly distant and unfocused, he hopped off the barstool and headed for the elf and the newcomer.

She watched their table with interest for a moment, trying not to dwell on her growing suspicion that her planned meeting wouldn't be happening. They were joined by a scantily-clad, dark-skinned woman and a waifish elf, both of whom had appeared from the other side of the tavern holding thick mugs.

As they approached, the dwarf—Varric—stood, waving his arms in alarm. "Aw, Rivaini, don't let her—" he scolded, before turning his attention to the elf girl's mug. "Daisy, that stuff will kill you," he chastised gently, grabbing the mug away before taking a quick swig.

The elf muttered a sheepish apology, glancing back up at the other woman from time to time, as if seeking reassurance. Her words broke momentarily as the tavern door swung open, and the dark-haired woman kept her from saying anything else by noisily dragging a chair to the end of the table and protesting something about a ship.

Olivia pondered where she had seen the woman before, not able to place why she looked so familiar. Her thoughts were jarred as she caught sight of a tall, blonde-haired mage.

_Anders._

In her rush, she nearly toppled her barstool and left her gauntlets. Righting herself and grabbing the gloves, Olivia snaked through the tables towards him. "Anders," she called, feeling her face light up at the sight of her old friend.

"Olivia." He turned to her and smiled, looking almost a bit surprised.

_Something's… off_. Olivia couldn't place it, but something seemed different about Anders. With a start, she realized his eyes were cold and his gaze hard, unlike the witty and warm Anders she had come to know in Amaranthine. Still, she was overjoyed to see him, alive and well. Giving him a brief hug, she pulled away quickly to inspect him.

"You look tired," he noted, his eyebrows crinkling in worry.

"It's a long journey," Olivia shrugged. "And I don't sleep as well without Alistair. Nightmares," she muttered, referencing the darkspawn-infested dreams that plagued all Grey Wardens.

Anders nodded in understanding.

For the first time, they both seemed to notice the jeering from the table Olivia had been watching. "Friends of yours?" she asked, her cheeks reddening.

Grimacing, Anders remained quiet. "Some of them," he decided finally. "Actually," he added, lightening a bit, "I wanted to introduce you to Hawke." Taking her hand, he led Olivia over to the table and offered her the last open seat. Pulling up a chair for himself, he gestured to Olivia. "This is her, Hawke. Olivia."

The red-haired woman tore her gaze from the mug in front of her, face flushed. "Olivia? Oh, right. Olivia." She fanned her face with her hand, pushing away the mug. "Maker, Varric," she gasped, "what _is _this?"

Ignoring the dwarf's explanation, Anders pointed to various faces and began introducing them. "This is Hawke, and… Fenris," he glowered, pointing at the elf, "and Varric, and Isabela—"

Olivia straightened, causing Anders to look over at her in concern. She waved it away, suddenly recognizing the dark-skinned woman from Denerim.

"And this," Anders finished with a flourish, pointing to the elf girl, "is Merrill, our resident blood mage."

His tone of voice made Olivia smile; she knew he wanted her to be offended by the elf, but she was too busy as the Warden-Commander to allow herself to get caught up with every little case of blood magic. _Besides_, she thought, _I've heard about Meredith and the templars here. They'll stop blood magic. She'll be caught soon enough._ Though the thought comforted her, Olivia was also concerned for the young girl's safety at the hands of a zealous templar.

_Enough, Olivia_, she chastised herself. _Grey Wardens can't take a side. We're neutral in this._

She turned her focus back to the table, where the group was now staring at her in expectation. All except Hawke, that is, who was concentrating on the mug. Not sure what to do, Olivia slid her hands into her lap and looked to Anders, hoping he would explain exactly why she had come to Kirkwall.

"So," Anders muttered slowly, "umm, this is Olivia." He hesitated. "Olivia Amell."

"Amell," Olivia repeated under her breath, the word tasting unfamiliar and wrong. It had been so long since anyone had called her that. "Maker, Anders," she breathed. "I haven't hardly heard that name since I went off to the Circle."

"The Circle?" At this, Hawke perked up, her emerald eyes shining in interest. "You're a mage?" She looked pointedly at Olivia's heavy armor and the sword and shield strapped to her back.

"Yes, it's…" She avoided Varric's gaze, deciding not to call it a _long story_. As Anders had pointed out, Olivia was tired from her trip. She didn't feel like explaining her trip to the ancient elven ruins, where she'd discovered an ancient spirit who'd taught her to wield her magic in such an unusual and unfamiliar way. _The arcane warrior_. Olivia turned the name over in her mind, feeling six pairs of hungry eyes set on her.

It was Fenris who broke the silence. "Another mage? An apostate, as well? Does she bend to the will of a demon, perhaps?" His question came out quiet threatening, and Olivia shook her head, but Anders was quick to come to her defense.

"She's not an apostate. She's—" Looking around, Anders leaned in and lowered his voice. "She's the Warden-Commander of Ferelden. She stopped the Blight and saved the lives of hundreds of people."

The elf crossed his arms, glaring over Olivia at Anders.

Trying to diffuse the tension, Olivia hurried to defend herself before Anders tried arguing again. "I've felt the touch of demons," she offered quietly. "Desire, pride, hunger… I've seen firsthand what they can do. I know how a reckless promise—however well-intended—can endanger the lives of so many." She thought sorrowfully of Jowan, and Arl Eamon, and the collapse of the Circle. "I've been caught in the grasp of a demon, and fought past it," she concluded, a touch of pride tainting her sincerity.

"And, if the stories are true," Varric added to her defense, "this woman willingly gave up her best friend to the templars because he was a blood mage, and then refused his help when he escaped. She willingly went into the Fade to hunt a demon that had taken hold of a young boy, rather than simply killing him outright. If the stories are true," he quickly reminded them.

Olivia simply nodded.

"I… have not heard these stories." Fenris' tone was almost apologetic, and Olivia could glimpse a softness in his eyes—respect, maybe?

"Not all mages seek out demons," Anders insisted.

"Yet so many do," Fenris shot back, turning his gaze back on Anders.

Surprised by his sudden outburst, Olivia glanced back at Anders. The hard determination in his eyes was unnatural – something she hadn't seen before.

This time, it was Hawke who broke the silence. She placed a tender hand on Fenris' arm and cleared her throat. "So, Olivia. You…" She fumbled for words. "Anders said you're an Amell?"

"Once," Olivia admitted, "before the Circle, and before the Wardens." She looked down at her bare hands, absentmindedly inspecting a ragged fingernail. She hated it when people tried to bring up her heritage; she knew she had family here in Kirkwall, but Olivia wasn't part of it. She was no longer an Amell, but a Warden. _Alistair's Warden_, she thought with a sad smile. He was her family now, and the Mabari she had found after Ostagar, but not the Amells.

"My mother," Hawke choked out, her lips forming more silent words before she stopped altogether, her head dropping.

"Rivaini," Varric piped up suddenly, "why don't we go play Wicked Grace with Daisy? She could use the practice," he suggested. "Fenris, Anders, you're both welcome to join us." Isabela groaned, but she and Merrill followed the dwarf up a small set of stairs at the back of the tavern.

"Hawke's mother was Leandra Amell," Anders said quietly. "I thought you'd want to know, and meet your family."

"She…" One of Hawke's hands twirled in the air, as if to grab a word from the space around her. "She died. Not long ago." The elf raised a hand slowly, like he was going to take one of Hawke's, but instead he placed it on the table.

"I'm sorry," Olivia whispered sincerely. "I… I didn't know her. Or any of the Amells, really. I don't remember much from before the Circle."

Fenris glanced up at her words, his face scrunching with recognition. Olivia wasn't sure what had brought it on, and sighed.

"Maybe we should go back to the estate," Hawke suggested quietly. Without waiting for an answer, she headed for the door, Fenris following close behind.

Anders stood to follow, but Olivia tugged at his sleeve to keep him from going too far. Standing to face him, she asked, "What happened to you, Anders? What happened after Amaranthine?"

He looked away, his face so full of regret and sadness that Olivia regretted asking the question. "Justice," he finally murmured, without looking back at her.

She nodded, understanding. "Are you… are you alright? Both of you?"

Anders' head snapped up, confusion clouding his eyes. "You're… concerned? For both of us?"

"The choice has been made," she explained, smiling in encouragement, despite her annoyance at the situation. "There's no point in being cross. So, yes. I'm concerned."

"We're… fine." Anders still didn't seem able to comprehend her worry. "Though I suspect he's going to cause me more trouble than he already has." His eyes darkened, and an involuntary shiver ran down Olivia's spine.

"Anders…"

"I can't control it, sometimes," he admitted roughly; his voice was harsh as he added, "I almost killed a girl, Olivia. A _mage_."

Olivia wanted to say something, to comfort him and tell him not to worry. She wanted suddenly to stay in Kirkwall and help him overcome whatever issues Justice was causing him. Feeling her heart drop, she realized she missed Anders' smile, the witty grin that she was used to. Instead, a grimace was plastered onto his face.

"You should get to the estate." Without another word, Anders stormed out of the tavern.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **The next two chapters are a bit boring, but I felt they were needed to help give a sense of who Olivia and Hawke are, and what's happened in Thedas at this point. Chapter 4 will be a bit more exciting, I promise!

* * *

_"Well, what it lacks in charm, the city makes up for in Qunari—Ah! Stop, Olivia, you're just making it—"_

_With one last twist of her magic, Olivia felt the bone snap back into place. She let the healing spell linger on Alistair's shoulder a moment longer, hoping to drain the last of his discomfort. "You were saying?" she asked smoothly._

_"Maker, woman," he grunted under his breath, "your healing spells will be the death of me."_

_"I'm sorry, Alistair. You're lucky I can do that much." Not sure whether to fuss over him a bit longer or not, Olivia kissed his temple softly and stood. "I need to leave, though. They'll be bringing in the next batch of reports soon." She pulled her thick gauntlets onto her slender hands, biting her lip at the thought of leaving so soon. _

_"You're leaving _me_ with all the reports?" Alistair asked, his voice muffled as he pulled his shirt back on. "All… bruised up like this?" _

_Suppressing a giggle, Olivia grabbed her sword and shield from where they rested against the wall."If circumstances were different," she murmured, turning back to him, "I'd stay and heal you. You know that." She let her gloved fingers run lightly over his shoulders and down his arms, wrapping her arms around his waist and holding him close._

_"Just healing?" Alistair pouted, burying his face in her hair. "And here I was, thinking you had so much more planned."_

_"I do. I just have to go to Kirkwall, first."_

Olivia sighed, wishing she were back in Vigil's Keep, instead of the dirty, crowded tavern. Alistair had just returned from the city when she had left, making for a very short reunion.

_Not to mention that blasted shoulder of his_, she grimaced. Glaring into the mug in her hands, Olivia forced her mind away from Alistair and the other Grey Wardens. She had come to Kirkwall after Anders had sent a letter, begging her to meet some of her family.

But Hawke had left, and so had Anders. Olivia supposed she'd rent a room for the night and leave first thing tomorrow morning, longing suddenly for Alistair.

"So, explain the armor."

Squinting in confusion, Olivia turned to see Varric walking towards her. She shook her head, not in the mood for stories.

"Alright." He sat opposite Olivia. "I like it better when I tell the stories, too. Have you heard the one where Hawke single-handedly fireballed an ogre to a crisp after it crushed her sister? Or the one where Hawke saved Flemeth, the legendary witch of the wilds? Or how about the one where she held off an entire Qunari invasion – thus saving Kirkwall, and, most importantly, The Hanged Man?"

Peering back into her mostly full mug, Olivia wondered if she had heard incorrectly. Either that, or she was becoming worse than Alistair at holding her ale. "That's impossible," she mumbled.

"Hmm." The dwarf shrugged innocently. "That's usually the response I get when I tell the tale of the Circle mage who rose up to unite Ferelden," he began counting on his fingers, "save the Dalish, prevent the Annulment of the Ferelden Circle, place a king on the throne of Orzammar, save the city of Redcliffe—twice—and find the legendary Urn of Sacred Ashes. And that's before I even get to the part where she kills the Archdemon and stops the Blight."

"Point taken," Olivia surrendered.

"I think you'll like Hawke," Varric offered sincerely. "She's shaken up by the death of her mother, but she's…" He paused. "Well," he chuckled finally, "she's _Hawke_."

Tracing the top of the mug with the tip of her finger, she asked, "And she's a mage?"

Varric nodded. "A damn good one, too. Just as good of a healer as Blondie, but with less of the moody rebel attitude."

Olivia turned back to her drink, mulling his words over in her mind. "I need to speak with her," she decided suddenly.

The dwarf's eyes widened in alarm. "Not when she took Fenris back to the estate. Why don't you go patch things up with Blondie?" he suggested.

"Anders," Olivia confirmed. When Varric nodded, she found herself full of nervous energy. She missed Anders terribly, and it didn't feel right to leave off on such an uncertain note.

_First Anders, then Hawke. Then I'll be done with uncomfortable conversations, and I can go home._

* * *

"Anders?" Olivia poked her head into the dusty clinic, her hand hovering above the grimy, half-open door. She pushed it further with a single finger, cringing as it squeaked in protest.

"I'm not taking patients tonight. I'm sorry."

"Anders, it's me." Olivia stepped into the clinic, skirting around a moth-eaten cot to where Anders sat, his head in his hands. "Are you alright?"

"Just… thinking."

Olivia joined Anders on the crate he sat on, staring hard at her bare hands as she tried to think of something to say. "Anders, what happened with the mage?" she asked, referencing his comment about nearly killing a girl.

Raising his head, the mage sighed. "It's nothing, Olivia. I'm sure you have better things to do than worry over me."

"Anders," Olivia prompted, reaching out to place an encouraging hand on his arm. Energy seemed to radiate from him when she touched him; it was familiar, like being trapped in the Fade. Blue light emanated from his body. Her breath catching, Olivia felt her heart begin to race in fear. She pushed it away, focusing on keeping her words clear and quiet. "Justice? Is this you? Are you… doing this to Anders?"

"Yes." The voice was not his own.

The energy in Anders' eyes faltered, and for a moment Olivia caught a glimpse of the mage trying to fight past Justice. "Please," she requested softly, "I need to speak to Anders, Justice."

The light faded completely. Anders pitched forward, gasping for air. "He's unused to kindness," he sputtered between breaths. "Even from you."

Wary of touching him again, Olivia remained silent.

"You… you startled him, I think."

"This is what happened to that girl, isn't it?" Olivia ventured, beginning to put pieces together. "You lost control of Justice?" When he didn't say anything in return, she slowly, carefully took one of his hands in hers. "What's happened to you?" she wondered aloud. "I miss you, Anders." He didn't respond, but Olivia was determined to occupy the uncomfortable silence. "Remember all those stories I told you about my friends during the Blight? Well, I miss them too. Morrigan and Zevran and Oghren. But you…" She gave his hand a light squeeze. "You're right here."

"I'm sorry, Olivia," Anders spoke finally, his tone dark. "I'm not the same person I was then. But I'm going to change that, I think."

She offered him an encouraging smile.

"I'm going to change that," he repeated, standing and tugging his hand away from Olivia. "If I don't…" he muttered to himself, looking off to the distance, "there will be no peace."

Olivia's gaze lingered on the mage, worry tainting her hazel eyes. Her fingers twisted a piece of her caramel hair. "You could always come back," she reminded him.

Anders barked a short laugh. "They'd never let me."

"I _am_ the Warden-Commander. I'd make them let you."

"I'm not going back."

She cringed at the finality of his voice. "I understand." Olivia stood, wanting to go to him and comfort him, but she refrained, surrendering to the fact that her friend had changed in the short time they'd been apart. "I guess I'll go speak to Hawke, then," she muttered, wondering if it would cheer Anders up at all.

"Good," was his curt reply. "It would be best if you leave."

Olivia headed for the door, back into the filth that was Darktown. She crinkled her nose at the sour smell. With a sigh, she tried—and failed—to clear her mind of Anders' ominous words.

So far, she wasn't really enjoying her trip to Kirkwall.


	3. Chapter 3

"Leave it alone, Hawke. I don't need your _magic_."

Olivia shifted in her seat, doing her best not to eavesdrop at the ongoing conversation in the other room.

"Calm down, Fenris," was Hawke's quiet reply.

"Just—" The elf fell suddenly silent, then spit out a few angry words in a language unfamiliar to Olivia. "Magic," he sneered. "I don't need your healing."

"But I'll bet a whole sovereign that it feels better," Hawke taunted.

Olivia couldn't hear his response, but she assumed it was a reluctant agreement. Hawke appeared in the doorway, motioning for Olivia to follow. "Sorry. I just wanted to get Fenris all healed up first. We ran into some Carta thugs on the way here," she explained. "I'm glad you were able to find your way, though. I should've told you at The Hanged Man." Hawke rubbed her temples, closing her eyes for a moment. "I've been a bit… off-balance since my mother died."

"It's alright," Olivia assured her. She had been fortunate enough to run into Bodahn on her trek through Hightown, and he had been more than willing to show her to Hawke's estate. "I don't want to pry at your life. I'm here mostly because Anders wants me to meet you." As the words slipped from her, Olivia furrowed her brow, afraid that she would come across as ungrateful.

"No, no," Hawke insisted, "please, prod and pry at my life. I mean, that's what everyone else does, now that Varric's told them I killed a dragon with my bare hands." Her tone was light, but her eyes were heavy with a weariness Olivia understood all too well.

As Olivia was about to comfort her, Fenris emerged from the side room, glowering at the two mages. "I'm leaving," he announced, but Hawke reached out and let her fingers trail over his arm.

"Stay, please."

Olivia studied Hawke's eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the need that shone through. It reminded her suddenly of Alistair, and she sighed loudly.

Hawke and Fenris glanced back at Olivia. "You could leave," Hawke mumbled, hesitant as she turned back to Fenris.

"No, sorry," Olivia apologized, realizing they took her sigh for distaste. "It's not that. I just… miss being home," she admitted.

There was a deafening silence, but Fenris eventually spoke up. "Did you see the Circle as your home?"

"I had to," she answered automatically. Rubbing her arm self-consciously, she added, "It's all I ever knew, really. Then, there was Ostagar, and then… Nothing. But now I have Vigil's Keep," she finished, trying to lighten her voice.

"My brother was at Ostagar," Hawke offered, leading them to the side room so they all had a place to sit. "Carver's a templar, now, but he was a soldier in Cailan's army. Even if he didn't spend all his time in the Gallows, I don't think I'd introduce you," she snickered. "He can be a bit of an ass sometimes."

Olivia settled into her chair, gazing into the fire. "He was lucky, then," she muttered, turning back to Hawke and Fenris. "Many soldiers didn't make it out of there alive." Her mind wandered to her own chance escape.

"He had a twin," Hawke revealed quietly. "Bethany. I would've introduced you in a heartbeat. Everyone loved her. She was so sweet, and kind, and soft-spoken. She was also a terribly frightening mage," she added.

"Your father was an apostate, as well?" Olivia asked, trying her best not to sound accusing. From the corner of her eyes, she could see Hawke's red hair bob in a silent nod.

"He died a few years before we left Lothering. Bethany was killed on the way to Kirkwall, and my mother was murdered this past year."

Olivia sucked in a sharp breath. _Why would Anders bring me here? _she thought, a bit annoyed. _I haven't found a family, I've found a lonely woman surrounded in death._ "I'm sorry," she offered, knowing it wasn't enough.

"Oh, don't be," Hawke chastised lightly. "Look at me. I'm the Champion of Kirkwall, I'm filthy rich, and I have this giant estate to share with my dog."

She recognized the deceptively cheerful tone – it was one that Alistair used often – and decided not to pry any further. "So, what is it that the Champion does in Kirkwall?"

"Kill things, make money, then piss it all away at The Hanged Man." Hawke chuckled before continuing, "Really, though, that's all I do. I make a terrible noble."

"It's hard to stop," Olivia agreed, despising the endless stacks of reports she dealt with as Warden-Commander. "Life on the road is so much more interesting," she sighed.

Hawke wrinkled her nose. "I prefer a nice, warm bed to a tent."

"Tents aren't so bad." She felt her face flush from her own memories at camp, and cleared her throat. "You visit The Hanged Man often?" she inquired, quickly changing the subject.

"Too often," Fenris grumbled. Olivia looked up in surprise, but he was smirking, his gaze relaxed and fixed on Hawke.

Groaning, she remained silent, burying her face in her hands.

"The barkeep doesn't believe she's the Champion," the elf explained. "He said she's always too drunk to fight properly."

"Not _drunk_," Hawke corrected, her tone defensive. "He said _preoccupied_, not _drunk_. I like to think it has to do with our card games. I don't get drunk," she pouted.

"_Smashed_, then. Isn't that the word Varric used?"

Olivia watched their playful banter with interest, forgiving Anders for dragging her to Kirkwall. With most of her own companions going their own way, Vigil's Keep was beginning to feel lonely – there were just unfamiliar recruits and foreign reinforcements. _Maybe I could come here often_, she thought with a smile. _I could bring Alistair next time. It would be good to get out of that stuffy keep – other than while on patrol, that is._

"…Olivia?"

She looked up, finding both Hawke and Fenris staring at her. Blushing, she stammered, "Sorry, lost in my thoughts."

"We were just wondering how long you planned on staying in Kirkwall." Hawke shrugged, as if to show the question wasn't a big deal. "As the Warden-Commander, you must be dreadfully busy, but you're welcome to stay as long as you like."

"Just a few days," Olivia answered automatically, not sure when she had unconsciously made the decision. "Maker knows I could use a break from those damned reports."

* * *

Olivia awoke early, feeling refreshed. The soft morning sunlight shone in through the window, casting a soft glow around the unfamiliar room. She sat up slowly, squinting against the light.

Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the opposite side of the room, she groaned. Her hair was a mess. Olivia slid out of the silk sheets, briefly debating whether or not to change clothes. Hawke had given her a rather expensive looking outfit to wear, but Olivia knew she'd feel more comfortable in her familiar armor.

Instead, she tackled her hair, furiously brushing the short caramel strands back into their proper places. _Maker_, she groaned internally. _And I didn't even have any nightmares. How does hair even get so messed up? _

Not long after she'd awoken, there came a soft knock at her door. "Come in," she answered hesitantly, not wanting to deal with anyone quiet so soon after waking up.

"It's me." Hawke poked her head inside, the rest of her soon coming into view. "I know it's early, but…" She bit her lip, her eyes worried. She wore her robes, an extravagant red and black ensemble. "I'm busy today," she apologized, "so I needed to speak with you before I left."

Olivia nodded in silent understanding.

Sighing, Hawke sat on the bed, leaning up against the headboard. "It's Anders," she admitted drowsily. "He came to the estate late last night. He said he promised you something about changing, and he wants to speak with you."

"Me?"

Hawke nodded, then paused. "Well, both of us, actually. He says—" she stifled a yawn before continuing, "—says he's got a way to fix himself. Him and Justice."

She blinked in confusion. "Oh." Olivia looked down, thinking hard on her conversation with Anders the day before. _Maybe I made that big of an impression on him,_ she wondered, though she doubted her own thoughts.

"I want to speak to him this evening, before we all go to The Hanged Man. I wish we could go earlier, but Isabela wants help." Hawke snorted in disapproval. "I think it involves robbing an innocent man who refused to sleep with her."

Olivia nodded, though she wasn't listening. "Can I write a letter?" she asked, suspicion growing in her mind.

"Sure." Hawke explained where the parchment and quills were before excusing herself. "Don't forget about Anders," she added as she slipped out the door.

Simply nodding again, Olivia headed for the writing desk and rummaged around for what she needed.

_Alistair_, she began simply, _I think I'll be gone a bit longer than intended. I found who I was looking for_, she wrote, careful not to mention Anders' name, in case a curious Warden decided to read the letter, _and I wouldn't feel safe leaving Kirkwall without resolving a few things first. I'll be back as soon as I can. Please take care of your shoulder, and don't forget to let Lily out before you put her to bed. _Olivia smiled at the mention of her beloved Mabari, shaking her head as she realized how much she missed the two of them. _I love you both,_ she finished, leaving the letter unsigned. Alistair would recognize her handwriting, and they didn't need anyone—curious Wardens or otherwise—knowing where the Commander was.

Setting the quill down, Olivia chewed on her lip thoughtfully. It had been a while since the Qunari attack and the death of the Viscount, but Kirkwall still seemed shaken. Olivia was afraid that, if she didn't do anything, the combination of Justice's determination and Anders' need for theatrics would shake the city in a way it wouldn't be able to recover from.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Alright! There's some action! Not much, but more than the other chapters. :)

I've made a few changes to the overall plot - the story actually takes place right before Act 3. To keep it from getting _too _boring, I'm going to use companion/side-quests for now, with the events of Act 3 showing up in a few chapters. This story won't be all that long, and will end shortly after the final events of DA 2.

Also - if you're interested, I'll have a new (longer) story up soon, called "A Tale That Wasn't Right" which I'll get up this week, along with chapter 5 for this story!

* * *

"Shut up, you little whore!" Hawke spun her staff, catching Isabela on the back of her knees and sending her stumbling forward weakly. The pirate cried out but quickly silenced, staring back at Hawke with proud, defiant eyes.

"I hope you're happy betraying your friends, _Champion_," she spat, pulling herself up off the ground.

Ignoring her, Hawke held out an eager hand to the man in front of her. "I expect you'll pay well for her?"

He nodded, dropping a few sovereigns into her waiting hands. "Your services are much appreciated," he drawled, his gaze flickering back to Isabela.

Nodding, Hawke simply said, "I hope Castillon takes the time to enjoy her. You can't imagine how long it took to tie her up like that. Actually," she paused, cocking her head thoughtfully, "I think she rather enjoyed it until she realized where I was taking her."

The man laughed, a loud guffaw that made Hawke wince.

_Maker_, she thought, cringing internally, _what am I doing, leaving her with this brute?_ Before she could change her mind, Hawke bid Velasco farewell and spun out of the room. "Let's get out of here," she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Fenris and Aveline to hear.

"You had a bit too much fun," the Guard-Captain commented. "Not that I'm criticizing. I would have, too."

A hand reached out to Hawke's shoulder, and with a start she realized it was Fenris. "We'll find her," he promised. "We won't let Castillon escape." His eyes were sincere, and Hawke felt herself relax.

"Thank you," she whispered. With an encouraging smile, the trio left the Blooming Rose and waited for Isabela's trail.

* * *

Hawke paused at the landing door, glancing up at the darkening sky. "We have to hurry." She turned back to her companions, hoping they wouldn't ask for an explanation. Anders had made it perfectly clear that their meeting was to remain a secret.

"She'll be fine," Fenris insisted, misreading her concern. "If she isn't, it isn't our faults. This whole plan was her idea."

"True." For a moment, Hawke felt incredibly stupid; she'd brought the only two people in her little group of friends who detested Isabela. But, her fears were lessoned when she saw the glint of worry in Aveline's eyes. She may try to pretend to hate Isabela, but Hawke knew she cared about her.

She also knew if she ever said anything about it, Aveline would put her through a world of hurt.

With a sigh, Hawke turned back to the door, pushing it open slowly. Velasco's voice echoed through the warehouse, taunting Isabela. Pausing, Hawke waited for her response.

"You know, despite popular belief, I _do_ have standards."

Hawke wanted to give a little cheer for Isabela and her snarky tongue, but chose silence instead. Creeping through the first room, she dared to peek around the door. On the floor below, Velasco stood with the pirate, keeping a close eye on her. Isabela caught sight of Hawke and smiled, giving a little nod. Returning the nod, Hawke motioned to Fenris and Aveline. "Let's go."

"You!" Velasco sneered as the trio stormed down the stairs to where he was waiting. "I knew something was up. Kill them!"

Raiders appeared through doors and from behind columns. Hawke felt a little smile tug at the edge of her lips. _Too easy._ Twirling her staff in her hands, Hawke let the magical energy bubble up inside of her, exploding into a massive rain of fire that consumed the raiders on the ledge above them. Swords and shields clashed, but Hawke focused on the torrent.

Just as she was about to finish off the fire blast, she felt a blade make contact with her side. Crying out in pain, she stumbled forward and clutched at her stomach, her robe already sticky with blood. Aveline was there before Hawke could call out, planting herself firmly in front of her. Hawke leaned against a column, gasping for air and trying to keep her consciousness. Velasco's face came into view, but was soon replaced by Aveline's shield. Even after Velasco fell, Aveline remained at her side, but Hawke protested. "Go," she insisted, struggling to summon her healing aura.

The aura swept across the floor, sending a cool shudder of relief through Hawke. She could see in Aveline's eyes that the warrior had felt it, too, and she finally stood and rejoined the battle. In a matter of moments, Hawke could feel the skin on her side weaving itself back together, and her head began to clear. As soon as she had been healed enough to steady herself on her feet, Fenris appeared at her side.

"It's over," he consoled her. "How badly are you hurt?"

Hawke felt herself smiling at his concern. "I'm fine, now." Looking past him, she saw bodies strewn across the warehouse, blood spatters streaked across the walls. "You didn't leave any for me," she pouted.

"It's fine. You stick to the healing." As Isabela drew closer, Hawke saw that she had blood running down her dark boots. The pirate followed her eyes, poking her finger curiously along the outside of her thigh. "It's all better, Hawke. Not even a scar." Her eyes grew wide suddenly, and she gasped, "Is my jaw swollen?!" Isabela clasped her jaw, inspecting it with her fingers. "Maker," the pirate breathed, "I thought I'd be dealing with that for a week."

"Not if I can help it," Hawke smiled, trying not to wince as she stood. Noting the distant look in Isabela's eyes, she asked, "Where's Castillon?"

The pirate frowned, crossing her arms and walking a tight circle before answering. "I don't know. He'll be here soon, though. I want to look around first."

The group split up, searching the various rooms of the warehouse for any evidence of Castillon. Hawke had found a small office, and was rummaging through the desk for coin when she heard footsteps approach.

"Hawke," Aveline called quietly, "what's going on? You're not…" She paused as Hawke turned to her. "You're not fully engaged. What's on your mind, Hawke?"

"I just want to get home," she improvised, smiling. "I don't want to leave Olivia alone for too long."

Aveline's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she eventually nodded. "I just don't want to see your get hurt. If anything's wrong, you know you can come talk to me."

"Thank you, Aveline." Hawke grabbed the few sovereigns she had discovered and slipped them into her coin purse. As she and the warrior turned to leave, a foreign voice called out. Isabela's matched it, and they sprinted down to where Isabela and a strange man stood.

"Castillon," Isabela spat. She held up a roll of documents, sneering. "Slavery in the Free Marches. How do you think that's going to go over?" Before Castillon could answer, she offered him the papers, demanding, "I want your ship, and your promise to leave me alone."

"Deal."

"Isabela!" Hawke grabbed her wrist, preventing her from handing over the papers. "What are you doing? I thought you wanted him dead." She let Isabela's wrist go, shaking her head in confusion.

"I want him _gone_," she corrected. "I'm just doing it peacefully."

Castillon grinned, his eyes darkening sinisterly. "We could always solve this like civilized people, with our blades…"

Biting her lip, Hawke glanced out the dock at the twilight sky. "Maybe you're right, Isabela." She looked down, trying to ignore the fire in Fenris' eyes as arrangements were made to let the slavers go free. As soon as Castillon and his men had left, Hawke apologized to her group. "I have to go. I'm sorry." Without another word, she sprinted out of the warehouse and towards Darktown.

* * *

Anders stood and Olivia sighed, her eyes tracing his steps as he set off on another lap around his clinic. He walked the same circle over and over, mumbling under his breath. After three laps, he stopped. "She's not coming."

Letting her head drop into her hands, Olivia argued, "Yes, she is. I've told you, she was helping Isabela. Hawke _will_ come, Anders."

"No, she won't. She said she'd be here before we went to The Hanged Man, and we're always there well before nightfall." His voice rose in volume and octave as he continued. "She knows what I did. Last time I asked for her help like this, I lost control. What she doesn't understand is—"

"Anders, please!" Olivia cried, dropping her hands into her lap. She wanted to help him, but he was beginning to drive her insane. "Hawke will come." Sighing, she went to comfort him, wrapping him in a quick hug before promising, "She'll be here soon. If not, I'm sure there's an explanation. You always have me, I promise."

"I do, don't I?" A strangely distant look overcame Anders, and he pulled away from Olivia and flipped through a heavy book on his desk in the corner of the clinic.

Once again, Olivia's suspicions were reignited. Anders was planning something. Something _big_. But, the Commander kept her thoughts to herself.

"I've discovered something, Olivia." Anders glanced over his shoulder. "I can…" He paused, hesitating for a moment before abruptly slamming the book shut and rushing towards Olivia. "I can separate Justice from myself. I can free myself."

"That's wonderful, Anders." Olivia bit her lip and looked away, not sure what to say. "If that's what you want, of course."

"I do. I _know _this is what I want, no matter the price."

"What price?" she demanded.

The mage placed his hands on her shoulders, looking her straight in the eyes. "Any price. I'm prepared to pay with my life."

His disregard for his own life annoyed Olivia, and she pushed his hands away. "And you want my help in this?" Startled at the venom in her own voice, she took a deep breath to calm herself. "I'm sorry. I'm being foolish; of course I'll help. What do we need to do?"

"I need some… reagents." Anders seemed reluctant to say more, but he finally continued. "Sela petrae, from the sewers, and drakestone from the mines. After that, I'll just need some time to prepare."

"Alright. Let's get started, and with luck, we'll finish up tonight." Olivia smiled and tugged her gloves on, pretending she hadn't noticed the dark glint in her old friend's eyes.

* * *

Hawke swore under her breath as the door swung open. Anders' clinic was empty; she was too late. Gritting her teeth, she spun on her heel to leave and nearly smacked into a young elven girl.

"Oh, Champion, I'm sorry," the girl mumbled, stumbling out of the way and shielding a young boy, maybe only five or six years old.

"It's fine," Hawke sighed. "Did you happen to see Anders?"

"The healer?"

She nodded.

The boy peeked around the door, checking the clinic. "He was in here earlier." He began to say more, but a cough wracked his body.

Kneeling down, the girl wrapped her arms around him and held him close. "It's okay," she whispered to him, before standing and turning back to Hawke. "I saw him earlier, and he said I could bring my brother in. But then… then we saw him leaving with a woman. I thought he'd be back."

_Olivia_, Hawke thought bitterly. She wasn't really angry with her or Anders, but more annoyed at the situation. She thanked the girl and was about to leave when she looked back at the two children, and her heart melted a bit. "I'm a healer, too," she offered. The girl's green eyes grew wide with hope, and Hawke ushered the children into the clinic.

_Looks like I won't make it to The Hanged Man, either. Damn you, Anders._

* * *

_Strike. Step left, back, strike again. Parry. Block right. _

_Right! Your _other_ right._

Olivia could hear Alistair's voice in her ear, calling out instructions for her sword to follow. She wished he were there now, guiding her blade and shield against the spiders that filled the mines. The Commander slashed and hacked tirelessly, summoning a fireblast or frostbolt whenever she could manage. Anders' magic whirled around her, and soon a dozen spiders were curled up at their feet, dead.

Sheathing her sword, Olivia inspected her battered shield. The emblem of Redcliffe was barely visible under the layer of spider ichor. Sighing, she turned to Anders. "You've become quiet the healer since Amaranthine," she complimented. "I've barely got a scratch."

"Let's just get the drakestone and get out of here." Anders marched past her, his jaw set.

She sighed again. They'd already collected a pouch full of the sela petrae in the sewers, and in the mines they'd found a decent amount of drakestone, but still Anders wanted more. _If this is what it takes to get Anders back to the way he was before_, she thought, stepping over the corpses, _I'll kill spiders for a week. I just want him to be happy again_. She began to follow him through the mine, but a slow hiss caught her attention. Fully alert, Olivia sprinted around the curve, searching for Anders and hoping he hadn't been caught unaware by a spider.

But the mage was fine, kneeling over and inspecting what Olivia assumed was more drakestone. Still wary, she gripped her sword tightly and summoned a wave of ice to coat the blade. She made a slow circle around Anders, her eyes inspecting every crevice in the stone walls.

Another hiss echoed through the mine, and Olivia made a decision. "I'm going to look around," she told Anders. "I think we missed a spider."

He didn't answer.

Slowly, carefully, Olivia crept around the corner, careful to keep her shield from hitting her armor noisily. Again, she swept the narrow hall but found nothing. _There's something here. I know it_, she thought uneasily, backing into the opening where Anders waited. "If you're ready, let's go," Olivia called over her shoulder. "I don't want to stay here."

With a slight nod, Anders headed back through the mine. Olivia followed, keeping her sword close in case her suspicions were right. They soon emerged into another open space, and she began to doubt herself, allowing herself to relax.

As soon as Olivia lowered her sword, another hiss sounded through the air. "Anders!" she called in warning.

He turned, his eyes growing wide.

Before Olivia could ask, she was flung forward, pinned down beneath the weight of a spider. She twisted and writhed, but couldn't free herself. Anders shot a frostbolt at the spider, and Olivia managed to slither out from under the frozen beast. Without bothering to retrieve her sword, she let loose a torrent of flames at the spider, quickly melting the ice and singeing the spider's front legs. It lashed out as the fire died out, catching Olivia squarely in the chest. She stumbled backwards, but managed to stay upright. Gritting her teeth, she held her hands in front of her, focusing on the electricity that was beginning to crackle between her gloved hands. Olivia's concentration broke for a moment as a wave of heat rolled over her, but the flames of Anders' fireball consumed only the spider in front of them.

Grunting with the effort, Olivia thrust her hands forward and let the lightning fly towards the beast. By now, she was breathing heavily, and Anders had sputtered something about not being able to continue much longer. The spider, however, showed no signs of tiring.

Rage and frustration consumed Olivia, and she used the sudden burst of energy to slam ice and fire into the spider, the magic flying from her so quickly it was almost simultaneous. Again, the spider lashed out.

This time, Olivia was sent flying. It had caught her in her arm, leaving a dent in her plate armor and pain that reverberated from her shoulder to her wrist. She landed on the other side of the clearing, smashing her head into a rock. Olivia groaned, sitting up slowly as blood dripped into her right eye. "Maker," she whispered, her head throbbing and pounding as if she were being beaten with the rock over and over. Desperately, she tried to hold on to her consciousness, to reach out and help, but her eyes, stinging with blood, closed.

When Olivia reopened her eyes, the first thing she saw was the relief on Anders' face.

"I was afraid I'd have to drag you back to Kirkwall," he admitted, reaching down to wipe Olivia's face with a piece of tattered cloth. "There's blood all over you, and in your hair," he mumbled, "but the wound is closed."

"Thank you." Olivia looked up at him, smiling as best she could. She decided to ignore the pain in her arm, not wanting to tire Anders' out any more than he already was. He held out a hand and helped her stand, and she nearly immediately fell into him. Her head was spinning from the blood loss, and Anders' offered her his staff to lean on. "Thank you," she repeated.

"If you're alright, let's get to Kirkwall." His words were innocent, but his tone was hard and determined and unnerved Olivia.

"Anders," she murmured, reaching a hand out.

"Let's go." He shot her an aggressive look, shoving past her to walk back through the mines. "I've got what I need. We should get back to Kirkwall."

Olivia stood there for a moment, listening to his footsteps echo down the empty hallway; her outstretched arm fell limply back to her side and she felt her face twist in concern. _I hope this works_, she groaned internally, beginning to follow Anders. _If not for him, for me. I can't take this much longer – this moody, angry Anders. This isn't the friend I left in Amaranthine._ She sucked in a sharp breath as she forced herself to realize that, perhaps, no matter how Anders' experiment ended, she wasn't going to find the friend she left in Amaranthine.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Blah. Not the best. I ended up cutting the chapter into two parts, so it wasn't super long, and this part isn't the most exciting. But that means Chapter 6 got all the fun parts!

* * *

"There's someone in the clinic."

"Wait, Anders—" Olivia gasped for breath, clutching at her aching side. _Maker, this desk job is going to be the death of me. I need to go on patrol more._ Straightening, she looked around for Anders; the mage had already sprinted up the next flight of stairs and into the clinic. Taking a few more shaky breaths, Olivia jogged after him. Her right knee twinged in protest as she climbed the stairs, an old wound from her fight with the archdemon acting up. _Ugh. I feel like one of those grizzly old war veterans, always going on about "old injuries." I'm too young for war injuries. _

_I really miss Morrigan._

Pushing the haphazard memories from her mind, Olivia focused on making it up the stairs. Vowing to switch to lighter, more comfortable robes when she made it back to Vigil's Keep, she glanced up at the clinic. The Commander could just barely make out Hawke's voice, but she couldn't tell what she was saying.

Olivia leaned heavily on Anders' staff, glad that the dizziness from the gash on her forehead was gone. Her right arm was still throbbing, but she could deal with it later. She breathed deep, then ventured into the clinic.

Hawke was leaning over one of the cots, her hands glowing as she ran her healing magic through a young elven boy. A girl stood behind him, worry creasing her face. Anders had retreated to his desk, stuffing the sela petrae and drakestone into one of the drawers.

"What's going on?" Olivia asked carefully.

"If you can heal, I'd love some help," Hawke quipped. The words were aimed at Olivia, but she suspected the harsh tone was for Anders alone.

Dropping the staff and her own weapons, Olivia joined Hawke at the cot. The elf's shirt was stained with thin blots of blood. "I can heal a bit," she offered, "but not much."

Hawke's shoulders slumped, and the magic in her hands wavered for a moment. "That's not much help, I'm afraid. We need Anders. These two came looking for him," she explained, "and I offered to help as much as I could. But then he started coughing up blood, and now he's got a fever…" The mage trailed off, seeming to notice Olivia for the first time. "Where's all that blood from?" she gasped. "Not yours, I hope."

Olivia waved her hand dismissively. "Anders took care of me. Don't worry." She turned her gaze to the healer, still hunched over his desk. "Come help, Anders," she called. "This boy needs your help."

He tensed visibly, but slammed the book shut and marched over to the cot. "Move," he commanded, his hands already glowing fiercely. After a moment, the boy began coughing up blood again. "Oh, this is quite wonderful." Anders straightened, his face glowing with satisfaction. "I've got just the thing…" He rummaged through a small crate beneath the cot and pulled out a dark green vial. "It takes care of the fever. I made it myself." With a smile, he handed the vial to the girl and ushered her out of the clinic; he followed soon after with the boy in his arms.

"I thought he wasn't going to get here in time." Hawke collapsed onto the ground, leaning against the wall. "I don't know how much longer I would've lasted. Cuts and scrapes and fatal sword wounds? Easy. A fever? I don't even know where to start." She sighed. "Sorry I didn't make it. I was helping Isabela, and…"

"It's fine." Ignoring the dull burning in her knee, Olivia began to pace, exactly as Anders had done earlier that evening. As she circled the clinic, she caught sight of the thick book on the desk. Glancing at the open door for Anders, Olivia slid over to the desk and flipped through the book. Her eyes glided over the pages, quickly scanning for any useful information. About a third of the way through the book she found a page full of notes, with scribbles in the margins and a rough sketch of a cat eating a templar in the corner. The words meant nothing to Olivia, with the exception of three words repeated over and over and underlined multiple times.

_Blackpowder._

_Javaris._

_Qunari._

Olivia shook her head slowly as she began to find other words she recognized, such as sela petrae and drakestone. "Hawke, I think we should go," she called over her shoulder, too tired to try and figure out what Anders was up to.

"Oh, good. I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

"How does it feel?"

"Like I've been beaten with a dead cat."

Hawke chuckled lightly, her deft fingers working quickly to inspect Olivia's arm. "There was a man in Lothering," she grinned, "who used to say something like that."

"He's the reas—" Olivia clenched her left fist, grinding her teeth hard as Hawke's magic hit a particularly tender spot on her arm. "How long is it going to be that sore?" she gasped.

"A few days," she shrugged. "You should've let me look at it last night."

Olivia brushed off her concern. "It was fine. And we were both tired." She turned her gaze to Hawke's hands, watching every movement. _Her healing is different than Wynne's. No less effective, I'm sure, but different. _

_I miss Wynne. Alistair and I should go visit her once I get back._

_Oh, stop it, you. You're being too sentimental. _Olivia sighed, once again overwhelmed by a fierce need to be back at Vigil's Keep. Trying to distract herself, she asked, "So, how bad is the Circle here? I've heard some terrible things, but I figure it's best to ask someone other than Anders."

"Well," Hawke began thoughtfully, rolling Olivia's sleeve back down, "I guess that depends. How was the Ferelden Circle?"

Scrunching her nose, Olivia strained her memory. _What _was_ it like? I remember Cullen—he was cuter before the whole Uldred thing—and I remember the First Enchanter._ _Everything else…_ "It's hard to say," she admitted. "It feels like I've been a Warden all my life. The Circle seems like another lifetime. But," she conceded, wracking her brain for memories, "it was pretty simple. There were classes and training, and lots of studying in the library. Apprentices did lots of work for the senior enchanters. The templars were nice enough, as long as you didn't step out of line."

Hawke barked a short laugh. "Sounds nice. Here, apprentices are raped and beaten. The rules are set by the Knight-Commander, and she changes them whenever it suits her fancy."

"So Anders wasn't lying."

"No."

"Maybe I could talk to the First Enchanter and Meredith," Olivia offered. "There's a balance that can be achieved in the Circle. Mages should have the freedom to grow and learn, but templars need the power to keep them in check." With a shrug, she added, "It worked in Ferelden."

Raising an eyebrow, Hawke remarked, "And the blood mage fiasco?"

Olivia felt her cheeks redden. "The First Enchanter was held responsible for that. On a day-to-day basis, things were fine."

She shrugged. "I still don't think I would've liked the Circle." Hawke stood and stretched, groaning a bit. "Well, I've got things to do today, unfortunately. The life of the Champion is never boring."

"I know the feeling," Olivia sympathized. "Varric came by yesterday and wanted me to go to The Hanged Man, anyway. Something about 'getting the real story.'"

"Oh, ew." Hawke's face twisted with pity. "Make sure he buys you an ale before her interrogates you."

"I'll do that," Olivia laughed. She stood and smoothed her shirt, inspecting herself in the mirror as Hawke left. With a little grunt of effort, she twisted the mirror a bit; the afternoon sun caused an inconvenient glare. She grabbed her pack and dug out her coin purse before tossing the pack back on her bed. After one last look in the mirror, she left the estate and headed for Lowtown.

* * *

"No shit – there we were, surrounded by blood mages. Hawke thinks it's all a misunderstanding, and walks right up to the leader. Now, you should've seen this guy; he was—" Varric froze upon seeing Olivia, his face lighting up with a grin. "Sorry, boys. I'll have to tell this one later." He shooed the ragged group of onlookers away and waved Olivia over. "And whoever bought me the ale – I owe you one. You two follow me." The dwarf pointed at Olivia and Isabela, who was lounging on a chair nearby.

Olivia followed Varric up the set of stairs in the back of The Hanged Man to where his suite was. She settled into a chair at the low table, choosing one near the fire. Isabela sat next to her, swinging the chair around backwards and resting her forearms on the back.

"Stay calm, Hotshot, but an old friend of yours is in town."

"Hotshot?" Olivia raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Ignore it," Isabela advised. "Varric has this insatiable need to name everything. And I do mean _everything_," she added with a sly grin.

Varric sighed and took a sip from his mug. "I can't exactly go around calling you 'Commander' or 'Hero'." Leaning forward on the table, he lowered his voice. "So. I want to talk to you about a few things. First – the storytelling is going to have to wait, sadly. Second – this friend of yours."

"Define _friend_," Olivia grimaced. "I don't have very many of those, sadly." Her mind raced, but she didn't have the slightest idea who it could be. _Wynne wouldn't be cause for alarm. Morrigan would, but she'd never set foot in a city this big._

"Can I _please_ go back to the bar?" Isabela whined.

"No. This is important." Varric's voice was businesslike, but Olivia had a sneaking suspicion he was just looking for the story behind her "friend."

"Who is it?" she asked.

The dwarf grinned, his eyes flicking between Olivia and Isabela. "He's tried to kill you both, and he's probably slept with you both."

Olivia felt her face flush with heat. _That rules Alistair out,_ she thought, flustered. _And I don't think any of those men from the Circle ever tried to kill me. _

"Oh, I know!" Isabela exclaimed, jumping up from her seat in excitement. "Is he really, Varric?" she asked, before turning to Olivia and smirking, running her eyes up and down her figure. "Oh, this is going to be _fun_."

"Rivaini," Varric said flatly, "stop. I don't think her face can get any more red."

"No, umm—" Olivia sputtered, "I just… Who is it?"

Isabela's eyes grew wide. "That many men fit Varric's description? Well, I was wrong about you," she purred.

"No! It's—" Olivia groaned, burying her face in her hands. "None do," she admitted, her voice muffled. Dropping her hands to the table, she sighed. "Between saving Ferelden and reviewing reports, the only excitement I have time for is putting new recruits through the Joining. _Not_ sleeping with men who want to kill me."

"Hmm," Isabela debated, her eyes thoughtful. "I'm feeling judged."

Varric cleared his throat. "Anyway. Back to the important stuff. Olivia, I believe you're familiar with the Antivan Crows?"

Olivia smacked her forehead. "Zevran."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **At this pace, the story will be finished by next week xD

Ordinarily, I'd space it out more, but this has become what I work on when I don't want to do real work. Ah, well. This is more fun anyway.

And thank you all for the lovely reads/reviews/follows! Pretty please leave a quick little review to let me know what you think!

* * *

"You will _not_ deny me!"

Olivia froze as a dagger flew through the air and lodged into the doorframe, just inches to her right. She turned, glaring at Isabela. "You aren't coming."

"Damn." The pirate looked down in anger, grunting. "That always works for Aveline."

Varric chuckled. "Come on, Hotshot." He swung the door open, beckoning for Olivia to follow. Once they were outside The Hanged Man, he asked, "So, surely you aren't planning on taking just the three of us?"

"Three?"

"Me, you, and Bianca."

Shaking her head, Olivia frowned. "No. I want to stop by the estate and see if Hawke can come. I'd like to bring Anders, too, if he isn't too busy." They turned down into Darktown and she grimaced at the stairs. _Why are there so many of these things in Kirkwall? It's like a nightmare._ Her bad knee protested, but she did her best to keep pace with Varric.

"I'd recommend leaving Hawke out of it. Today is her free day, and she spends those with her elf," he explained. "Aveline, though, would be a huge help. Just tell her that we're out to stop an assassin, and she'll be ready to go."

She furrowed her brow in confusion. "What do you mean, _stopping an assassin_? I thought we were _helping_ Zevran?"

"Yes, but you can't just tell people that. I'll explain in a minute." They walked into the clinic, which was unusually empty. "Blondie?" Varric called.

"Please, just let yourselves in," Anders grumbled from behind them.

Olivia turned to see him walk in with an armful of canvas sacks. "Sorry, Anders," she apologized. "Are you busy, or can you come help me with something?"

"I _was_ going to mix up some potions," he shrugged, dumping the sacks off to the side, "but I'm always up for a little adventure. What is it this time?"

Varric turned to leave, motioning for them to follow. "I'll explain on the way." As they walked back up to Hightown, the dwarf began rambling on about a contact and Hawke. "She'd picked up a job from this Antivan, who wanted her to track down an assassin. But, with this whole the-Hero-of-Ferelden-is-my-cousin thing, I guess she hasn't had time to look into it, because I intercepted a letter yesterday meant for Hawke. It was pretty simple: take care of the assassin, or be taken care of. They're offering a lot of coin for this job, so I was planning on talking to her yesterday. Problem is, nobody showed. I spent the whole night drinking with Isabela and playing cards with Hawke's Mabari," Varric complained.

"And I'll bet you lost a _lot_ of coin, too," Anders smirked.

"Hey – just because the dog beat you, doesn't mean he can beat everyone."

Olivia sighed, her patience wearing thin from the excess of stairs they were climbing. "The job, Varric?"

"Right. So, I send some friends of mine out to the Dalish to investigate. We now know who the assassin is—" he glanced at Olivia, but pointedly didn't mention Zevran's name, "—and where he's hiding. The rest is profit."

As they reached the Viscount's Keep—and more stairs—Anders groaned. "And we're bringing Aveline?"

"Who's Aveline?"

Varric pulled up short, his face twisting in confusion as he searched for a way to explain the Guard-Captain. "She scares the shit out of people." He looked to Anders for confirmation.

"Pretty much."

* * *

"There's something you aren't telling me."

"Relax," Varric assured Aveline. "I've told you all you need to know."

The guardswoman grunted. "_That's_ what worries me."

Olivia sighed. As soon as their little group had left the Dalish camp, the bickering had started up again. She was trying to like Aveline, but the way she was badgering Varric made it difficult. "So, Aveline," she remarked casually, "you were at Ostagar?"

"I was at Ostagar, yes," she confirmed.

Olivia waited for more, but the only sound was footsteps on the smooth grass of Sundermount. _Not one for small talk_, she noted, adding to her mental list of observations about her new companions. Deciding to focus on the task at hand, she inspected the rocky cliffs to their right. "So, according to your friend, Varric, there should be a cave along here?"

"Yep. Right about…" The dwarf picked up his pace, walking a few steps in front of Olivia. "Here," he announced, pointing to a low opening in the rocks.

"We should remain alert," Aveline suggested as they descended into the cave. "I've heard stories about these Antivan Crows."

"So have I. And if I know Ze—the Crows," Olivia stuttered, "there's going to be traps waiting for us." With a flick of her magic, she summoned a wave of ice to coat her sword. Looking back, she covered Aveline's as well.

Anders gave Olivia a mischievous grin. "I've been missing tricks like that. You know," he remarked, moving closer to Olivia, "sometimes I do miss being a Warden. Not the darkspawn, certainly, but the thrill of it all."

"Before Justice?" Olivia guessed quietly.

"Yes." He looked down guiltily. "It was simpler then, wasn't it?"

Hoping to raise his spirits a bit, she elbowed him lightly and chuckled. "Running around Ferelden cleaning up after a Blight? That was simpler than this?"

But Anders' eyes darkened. "Yes," he glowered. He was silent after that.

_Well done, Olivia_, she chastised herself. Shaking her head, she led the group around a corner. A muffled rustling sound caught her attention, and she held a hand out to stop everyone. "There's something up there."

"Well, I was expecting to run into _some_ trouble, considering who we're chasing," Varric shrugged.

Cautiously, Olivia readied her sword and shield and ventured into the clearing. "It sounded… bigger than our assassin," she called over her shoulder. "Be careful." Waving her companions into the clearing, she turned and surveyed the entire clearing.

She took another step forward, and the cave rumbled with a low growl. Olivia jerked backwards, avoiding the creature that barreled towards her.

_Varterral._

One of the beast's front legs swiped at Olivia. She ducked and rolled, popping to her feet behind the varterral. The creature reared backwards as Aveline bashed into it with her shield and Olivia was on the move again. Taking care to avoid Aveline, Olivia let a burst of magic leap from her hands, freezing the varterral in a case of fragile ice.

A well-placed arrow from Varric shattered the ice, causing the creature to shriek and growl. Olivia charged forward, slicing the beast's legs with her sword. A fireball from Anders caught her off-guard, but she recovered quickly and followed up with her own blast of fire.

The varterral began thrashing wildly, one of its legs catching Olivia in the chest. She flew backwards, the wind knocked out of her. All throughout the clearing, the varterral's thrashes caused rocks and stone to plummet from the ceiling.

As Olivia gasped for breath, she saw Anders collapse to the ground, knocked unconscious from one of the falling rocks.

"Heal!" Aveline called hoarsely, bleeding profusely from a wound on her thigh.

Gathering her strength as best she could, Olivia sent a wave of healing energy towards the guardswoman. She sprinted forward, grabbing her sword and shield and crashed into the varterral, throwing as much force as she could muster into each swing. Whenever she saw an opening, Olivia shot a bolt of electricity or ice at the varterral.

As Olivia sent a stream of flames at the creature, it staggered backwards. With a quick slam from Aveline's shield, it fell to the ground.

Seeing the paleness on the guardswoman's face, Olivia struggled to conjure enough energy to cast another healing spell. She pulled off one of her gloves and wiped her brow.

"Maker!" Varric groaned. "What was that thing?"

"A varterral," Olivia managed between her heavy breaths. "I've fought one, once before." That had been an entirely different fight; she had been searching for Morrigan, and, unlike today's search, she hadn't expected to find happy results.

Which, she hadn't.

Pushing those thoughts away, she knelt and shook Anders awake. "Aveline needs a healer," she told him as his eyes fluttered open. "I did my best, but…" She shrugged. "I'm not you."

Squinting, Anders cracked a grin. "I take back everything I said about missing the thrill of being a Grey Warden."

Not wanting to sour his mood again, Olivia just smiled back at the healer. "Healing," she reminded him, pulling him to his feet.

"Right, right." As he set to work mending Aveline's wounds, Olivia leaned against the cave wall and closed her eyes, lost in her memories.

"I'm guessing there's a story behind all this?"

Olivia cracked an eye, trying not to scowl at Varric. "Behind what?"

"That… _thing_. You said you've fought one. Is there a story, or is it just another part of the Warden-Commander's travels?"

"There's a story," she admitted with a sigh. "It starts with the Commander leaving Vigil's Keep on personal business, and ends with the Commander coming back thoroughly disappointed and gravely wounded."

Varric chuckled. "So, this isn't a story I'll ever hear?"

"No."

"I'll just have to make one up, then," he warned. "Come on, I think Blondie's done. We should probably go find this friend of yours."

"Looks like he found us," Aveline growled.

Olivia looked towards the opening and found her favorite Antivan assassin. "Zevran!" she cried happily, throwing her arms around him, leaving Aveline stunned and Anders smirking.

"Ah, my dear Warden," Zevran grinned. He pulled away, inspecting Olivia. "As beautiful as ever, I see."

"Don't start," Olivia chided lightly. "You have no right, after that stupid note. You can't just disappear and leave only a _note._"

The assassin chuckled. "And what did Alistair think?"

Frowning, Olivia planted her hands on her hips. "He said no."

"Tell him to reconsider."

Olivia pursed her lips. "He was _very _adamant."

"So this is the deadly assassin who helped stopped the Blight?" Anders inquired from behind them, his voice incredulous.

Zevran offered a little bow. "Zevran, at your service. Formerly of the Antivan Crows, and more recently, formerly of Vigil's Keep."

"_This_ is the assassin?" Aveline demanded. "You allowed an assassin in Vigil's Keep, and now we're helping him?"

"Aveline, please." Olivia turned to the guardswoman, hoping she would understand. "We can't just leave him. I won't let him be killed by the Crows."

She sighed heavily. "What choices does that leave us with, then?"

"Well…" Zevran drawled with a sly grin.

Olivia held up a hand to cut him off. "Don't. Start."

"Fine." He held up his hands in surrender, shaking his head. "If you truly wish to save my life, I suggest you start by killing the men who hired you." When Olivia nodded, he continued, "They have a camp not far from here. Our little group will waltz in and slaughter them all. Just like old times, no?"

The Commander found herself smiling despite the gravity of the situation. "Just like old times."

From behind her, Anders just groaned.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **A bit uneventful, but poor Hawke and Olivia need some time to rest because it's all about to hit the fan. ^.^

This story will be wrapping up in the next few chapters, but never fear! My new story, "Why the Hero of Ferelden Owes Me Lunch" is up, so feel free to check it out!

Thank you so much for reading and following! Feel free to leave a review :)

* * *

"Hello again, Varric." Feeling much more comfortable in the dwarf's suite—as opposed to the noisy, crowded tavern—Olivia settled into a chair away from the fire.

Varric, seated at the head of the table, grinned. "Hello yourself, Hotshot. I'm guessing Aveline declined our invitation?"

"She was not so pleased with the idea of drinking with an assassin," Zevran admitted coyly. "And I was not going to argue. What can I say, I enjoy living." He gave an innocent little shrug, bringing a snicker from Varric.

With a small smile, Olivia pulled off her gauntlets and set them next to her chair. "Is anyone else coming?"

"I thought so," Varric chuckled. "I offered to buy drinks. Usually that gets everyone in here before you can say _nug shit_."

Zevran seemed to be studying Varric closely. Raising an eyebrow, he remarked, "You are quite different than the other dwarves I have met. There is one in particular," the assassin continued, leaning forward on the table. "Perhaps you know the stories of him."

"Maker, Zevran," Olivia groaned in mock dismay. "I hardly think Oghren is a shining example of what a dwarf ought to be."

"I know the stories, sure." With precise, practiced strokes, Varric began cleaning Bianca. "But most of them come from Blondie."

"The mage?"

Varric nodded.

The assassin contemplated this for a moment. "I considered killing him, once. At Vigil's Keep."

Olivia let her head drop into her hands. _Not _this_ story again._

But Varric let out a loud laugh. "You, my friend, would have saved us a load of trouble."

Zevran sighed. "Alas, the Warden-Commander would not allow me to assassinate her soldiers." He flashed Olivia one of his signature smiles, then stood, announcing he would be back soon with some drinks.

The dwarf leaned back in his chair, still holding Bianca protectively. "I bet you had a hell of a time back in Ferelden. Forget the doom-and-gloom stories," he scoffed, "you were running around having a blast, weren't you?"

"Not quite." Olivia suppressed a laugh and continued, "It was exciting, no doubt. But _fun_? I'm not sure that's the word I would use."

Varric began to say something, but was cut off by the door to his suite being slammed open. Anders strode in and sat, completely silent. After a moment, he calmly noted, "I hope you're still planning on buying drinks, Varric, because tonight, I'm going to get very, very drunk."

"And why's that, Blondie?"

"There are some things you should not do in public. Or even _say_ you're going to do." He glanced back at the door, a grin slowly forming. "Isabela's out there. You should have seen her face when that elf walked in."

"_That elf_ has a name," Zevran called cheekily, appearing in the doorway. Isabela followed, her arms crossed and her eyes hard.

Inspecting Isabela, Anders grinned, "So, I'm guessing _that elf_ said no?"

The pirate glared at Anders, then at Zevran. "_That elf_ better make up for this later."

From her seat in the back of the room, Olivia asked incredulously, "Zevran said no?"

"Oh, not quite," Zevran chuckled, taking a seat. "I said _later_. There are things I wish to know first." As the rest of the group settled into their own conversations, he began hounding Olivia about their former companions.

As the two friends caught up, Olivia became painfully aware of her growing homesickness. It wasn't a feeling she was used to; even while traversing Ferelden, she'd never longed for the Circle. Not this badly, at least. "So, Zevran, why exactly _did_ you leave?" she asked after a while.

He shrugged. "You saw I was being hunted by the Crows."

"That's never bothered you before. We could've just gathered a group and gone with you." Confusion and a hint of worry tainted her voice. "What was different about this time?"

"Hmm, let's see," Zevran mused, his eyes focusing on the ceiling. "It started with a small group of Crows. You remember them—there were three of them, in a little camp outside the Keep."

Olivia nodded.

"I did not tell you then, but I had found a letter that led me to the main camp. Over the next few weeks, I began killing them. It was slow, and boring," he sighed. "I had to poison them, and wait." A grin curled on his lips, and he admitted, "There were dozens of them. An entire guild, and the guildmaster. All dead."

"So they tried to enlist the Champion of Kirkwall?"

Zevran nodded. "After I killed them, I left. I knew they would be after me soon, and I did not want the Keep or the Wardens becoming too wrapped up with the Crows. So I came to Kirkwall—"

"—leaving only a _note_," Olivia finished, letting hard edge slip into her light-hearted tone.

"Ah, and here is where I avoid the conversation." With another grin, Zevran left Olivia and went straight to Isabela, whispering something in her ear.

Olivia groaned and turned to Varric. "If you don't mind, I think I'll be heading back to the estate." Not only was she tired, but she knew how Anders got after his third drink. It wasn't pretty. She grabbed her gauntlets and headed for the door, trying not to look reproachful as Anders took another long swig from his mug.

"And _this_ is what I call the spicy shimmy!"

* * *

"Bodahn," Olivia sighed, "just call me Olivia. Or Warden-Commander. There's no need for such formality."

"Ah, well…" The dwarf looked away, wringing his hands. "Serah Hawke is in the study. Um, Warden-Commander."

"Thank you," Olivia offered sincerely. Leaving her weapons in the front room, she made her way to the study. She pushed the door open, but froze when she saw Fenris. The elf was sitting by the fire with a book in his lap, leaning slightly into Hawke as her finger trailed the words on the page.

Fenris stiffened as Olivia opened the door, scowling first at Hawke, then at Olivia. He slammed the book shut and tossed it to the floor. "I'm leaving."

"Fenris, no." Hawke scrambled to her feet.

Olivia just did her best to get out of the way, mumbling apologies as she shrank back into the front room with the dwarves.

"Fenris, please stay," Hawke pleaded. He kept walking for the door, and her tone turned harsh. "Is it always going to be this way? Are you always going to leave?"

At this, the elf froze, his muscles tensing. When Olivia looked at Hawke, she was surprised to see the shimmer of tears in the mage's eyes. She had a sudden, overwhelming sensation that she was intruding on something very personal, but didn't dare move from her perch by the writing desk. Instead, she awkwardly inspected the papers on the desk and pretended to take no notice.

"If it is your wish," Fenris finally spoke, his voice heavy, "then I will stay."

"Thank you." Hawke's voice held no trace of pain or anger. "Olivia, perhaps you'd like to join us in the study? I can have some food brought up for us." With that, the red-head spun back into the study. Slowly, Olivia followed, and then Fenris. They settled into the study, an uneasy silence falling over the room.

Finally, Hawke spoke. "I hope Varric doesn't mind that we declined his invitation. Lately, Fenris and I have been spending our free evenings doing a bit of reading." She motioned to where the book still sat. "It's calming, don't you think, Fenris? A nice change from all the killing we do?"

He grunted in response.

"Well," Olivia began slowly, hoping she could smooth over whatever quarrel she had accidently started, "if you'd like to go back to your reading, I think I'll turn in for the night."

"As will I." Avoiding Hawke's steely gaze, Fenris quietly added, "It's late, and we undoubtedly have things planned in the morning. Rest will do us all well."

Hawke didn't argue. "Well, you're a boring bunch," she teased. "I'll walk you out."

As she and Fenris left the room, Olivia leaned her head back. Her neck was stiff from being thrown by the varterral, something she hadn't anticipated when she'd gone to Anders for healing earlier that evening. Carefully, she rubbed her neck, letting her healing magic soothe the ache. It didn't help much, but it was something.

"Oh! Here, let me see."

Olivia opened her eyes and shook her head. "It's not a big deal, Hawke. Just a bit of soreness."

"Alright." She shrugged, sitting across from the Commander. Biting her lip, she added quietly, "Sorry about Fenris. He's… he doesn't like people to know about…"

"It's fine," Olivia assured her. "It isn't like I'm going to tell all of Kirkwall."

"Oh, good," Hawke breathed a dramatic sigh of relief. "At least out Warden-Commander isn't a gossip." She laughed lightly, but it was empty. Her eyes turned to the fire and her smile faded. "What's it like?" she asked suddenly, her voice unusually timid. "Having a… stable relationship?"

Raising an eyebrow, Olivia glanced towards the front door. "A stable relationship?"

Hawke ducked her head, rubbing her temples. "Emphasis on _stable_." She sighed. "Fenris has been hurt, and he's never had anyone to heal him. He needs someone—and he knows it—but he doesn't know how to accept my help."

Olivia thought immediately of Morrigan. She had needed a friend—a sister—and it had taken a Blight for her to admit it. "It takes time, and perseverance, and a willingness to offer space when they need it," she advised.

Groaning, Hawke sprung from her chair and began pacing, a whisp of flame escaping her clenched fists. "I've waited _three years_. I've done everything I can to help when he asks. I've given him space. I—" She let loose a string of grumbled curses. "I've lost my entire family," she muttered, her shoulders slumping. "Surely the Maker could allow me _this_?"

Tapping her fingers on the arm of the chair, Olivia let the word _Amell _float around in her mind for a moment. "No, Hawke," she decided finally. "You haven't lost your entire family." The Commander took a deep breath, making the same vow she had promised Morrigan as she disappeared into the mirror.

"You have a sister in me, no matter what. I swear I will be here for you, if you have need of me."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Well, here it is. The beginning of the end! There's only two chapters after this one, then it's all over!

As always, thank you for all for reading, and, of course, you're welcome to leave a review with your thoughts!

* * *

Olivia frowned, staring down at her pack with impatience. Hawke's servant girl, an elf named Orana, had stuffed her pack full of lyrium potions and various types of breads and cheeses. Olivia was grateful, of course, but now it was bulky and heavy.

There was a quick knock at the door, pulling Olivia from her mental assessment. "Come in."

Hawke strode into the bedroom that Olivia was using, an unreadable expression on her face. The Champion offered a wry smile. "You have company."

"Company?"

"Yep. I _told_ you it was a good idea to stay."

Laughing softly, Olivia left the pack on the bed and followed Hawke to the front room. She had been convinced by both Hawke and Varric to stay a week longer than expected, and as much as she was enjoying Kirkwall with her new companions, she had a duty to Ferelden as the Warden-Commander. "So, who _is_ this mysterious visitor?" she asked as they descended the stairs.

"You'll see," Hawke taunted with a sing-song voice. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Bodahn walked into the main room, leading someone Olivia recognized immediately.

"Alistair!" Olivia cried with joy, quickly crossing the room to throw her arms around him.

He chuckled softly, holding her tightly and murmuring, "I decided to come when I got your letter. There have been reports of unrest in the city, and I thought I should check it out. Coming here had _absolutely_ nothing to do with my hatred of paperwork, honest."

Beneath the humor, Olivia sensed a tone of sincerity. "What reports?" she asked, pulling away and slipping back into the role of Warden-Commander.

Alistair straightened, the grin dropping from his face. "The same reports we've been getting for years. Mages attacking templars in the Circle, rumors of blood magic, Meredith overstepping her bounds…" He shrugged. "Nothing new, but apparently the Guard-Captain of the city has been complaining about the Viscount's empty seat and it caught the attention of the last patrol. She thinks—"

"She thinks Meredith is abusing her power to keep it empty," Olivia finished. "I've met Aveline. She seems like a sensible woman, if a bit pushy."

"Meredith is abusing her power in general," Hawke insisted, her voice unusually aggressive.

"There's nothing we can do about that, I'm afraid," Alistair apologized with a sigh. "Olivia might be able to speak to the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter, but outside of the fact that she's a mage, we can't interfere."

The Commander turned to face Hawke, keeping her expression and tone carefully neutral. "In the interest of peace, we'll try and negotiate a middle ground. If this… situation goes beyond talking, Kirkwall will just have to look to its Champion for guidance. The Wardens can't get involved."

Hawke looked disappointed, but gave in. "Let's not bother with this right now," she suggested lightly. "We'll go to Hightown and get something to eat, then I'll leave you two alone." She winked at Olivia, grinning as the Commander's face flushed a bit.

The trio made their way into Hightown. Olivia expected to find the typical morning crowds in the normally bustling city, but to her surprise, the market was entirely empty. She could hear a voice from further in the city, but she didn't think to investigate until she saw Hawke was already heading that way. With a little sigh, Olivia grabbed Alistair's hand and tugged him along, following Hawke.

What they found made her head throb with impatience. The First Enchanter addressed a large crowd, speaking of the injustices of the templars. As the group approached the crowd, Meredith pushed her way to Orsino, demanding he stop with his demonstration. Olivia shared a nervous glance with Alistair, and his hand squeezed hers reassuringly.

"Well," Hawke chuckled, shouldering her way through the crowd, "you two bicker like an old married couple. People will start to talk, you know." She clicked her tongue in mock chastisement.

"Champion." Orsino seemed relieved at her appearance, and stared the Knight-Commander straight in the eyes.

Meredith began to say something, but Hawke beat her to it. "If you don't start treating mages like the civilized humans and elves they are, poor Orsino is going to lose his voice. That, and you'll force the mages to show off all those dangerous things they learned in the Circle. Well, whatever they managed to learn between the beatings."

"Maker's breath," Alistair whispered. "She's mad. That's the Knight-Commander!"

"She's not mad. She's just Hawke." Olivia bit her lip; she wasn't pleased with Hawke's foolish bravado, either.

Meredith, Orsino, and Hawke went back and forth for a bit, but the Grand Cleric eventually emerged through a respectful parting in the crowd. There was an audible sigh of relief from the crowd as Elthina demanded that the arguing cease. Hawke remained to speak with Orsino, but Meredith had caught sight of the two Grey Wardens.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of entertaining a second Amell mage in my city?" The Knight-Commander's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but her tone was genuinely warm.

Alistair's grip on her hand tightened protectively, but Olivia didn't feel threatened. "Just here to visit family and friends," she answered honestly. "The Wardens have no interest in becoming involved in these conflicts."

Meredith chuckled dryly; it reminded Olivia eerily of Flemeth. "I wasn't suggesting you would. I'd like to speak to you privately. Both of you," she clarified. "Please, stop by the Gallows when you have the time."

"We don't want to—"

"I'm not asking you to wage war on my behalf," Meredith interrupted sharply. She inspected the pair for a moment, nodding thoughtfully. "I merely ask to speak with you." With that, the Knight-Commander turned to leave. As she walked away, she called over her shoulder, "Sometimes, influence has a farther reach than a sword, Wardens."

Once Meredith was gone, Hawke rejoined them. "I hope I didn't get you in trouble with her," she apologized, frowning slightly.

Olivia shook her head. "She wants to speak with us, is all."

Hawke winced. "I'm sorry. You can just go home. Don't worry about her." She looked down, her face twisted with concern. "I'll take care of it. I promise."

"We can't," Alistair sighed. "She's the Knight-Commander, in case you hadn't noticed."

"I know." Hawke grinned, her green eyes dancing with something more dangerous than mischievousness.

"We're going to go speak with her after we get something to eat," Olivia decided. "Little chats like this tend to take _hours_. We'll be out of your way," she smiled amiably, knowing Hawke already had other plans for the day.

A quiet, nervous laugh slipped from Hawke. "I'd almost rather have you along today," she admitted. "Remember what I told you about Fenris' sister? We're meeting her at The Hanged Man for lunch."

"You'll be fine," Olivia consoled her, tugging her hand from Alistair and wrapping Hawke in a gentle hug. "Just don't drink too much, and remind Fenris that it's okay to smile _sometimes_."

Hawke fidgeted, looking uncharacteristically nervous. "I'm not worried about making an impression."

"Marian Hawke," she chastised, feeling a bit like Wynne, "you have gone to the Void and back for that man emotionally. If _anything_ happens to him—whether he runs off or that coward of a magister shows up—I will personally lead an entire legion of Wardens to fix it." Hawke had spilled Fenris' heartbreaking story to Olivia the night before, admitting that she and Fenris were worried that his sister was a distraction, and that Fenris' former master would force him back into slavery. With a little pang, Olivia realized that there was a hint of truth in her words; she had come to care for Hawke a great deal in the past two weeks, and wanted nothing more than to see her happy.

The Champion's face lit up, and she smiled slowly. "Thank you." With one last, hopeful look back at Olivia, Hawke took off through Hightown.

"That is _not_ the same woman I met during the Qunari attacks," Alistair muttered.

Olivia tipped her face to his for a kiss. "There's a lot more to Hawke than just being Kirkwall's Champion. Are you hungry, or should we go straight to see the Knight-Commander?"

"I could eat the entire market," he groaned. "But we should go talk to her."

Laughing quietly to herself, Olivia took Alistair's hand again and they made their way to the Gallows. Meredith seemed to be waiting for them, pacing in her office impatiently.

"I admire you, Warden-Commander," she began, closing the door and moving to stand behind her desk. "As a mage, you did exactly as the templars asked. You remained a diligent student in the Circle, leaving when the Wardens summoned, and not a moment sooner." Her eyes regarded Olivia coldly. "You could teach these Kirkwall mages a thing or two about obedience."

Despite being a bit flattered, Olivia couldn't help but wonder whether the rumors about overbearing templars were true or not. "My apologies, Commander, but I've heard terrible things about the Circle here. I don't want to cause offense," she defended quickly.

Meredith tapped a finger on her desk. "Your words are known, even here in the Free-Marches." Her voice was insistent, and she blatantly avoided the question. "You call the templars a _necessary evil_, do you not? Our actions must be taken to ensure the safety of all our citizens, regrettable as they may be."

"I do believe templars are a necessity," Olivia confirmed, "but I believe in co-existence, not in domination."

"Would you co-exist with murderers and conspirators?"

The question caught Olivia off-guard.

"The mages plan to rebel," the Knight-Commander continued. "I've received word of… gatherings. I told you I wouldn't ask you to wage war for me, but I _would_ recommend a casual stroll through Hightown tonight. If you _did_ see any mages conspiring against me, it would be helpful to know." She looked Olivia straight in the eyes, her words deliberate.

"The Wardens cannot intervene," Alistair insisted. "Even something as… innocent as this."

But Olivia wasn't so sure. Many times, she had been told of the Wardens' role as the protectors of the people. While they weren't supposed to choose sides in a fight, she assumed it was in everyone's best interest to keep peace.

"Commander?" Meredith crossed her arms, peering down at Olivia expectantly.

Still, Olivia didn't answer, continuing to mull the idea over in her mind.

"Perhaps it would be helpful if I pointed out that I am familiar with your apostate healer who cowers in Darktown," the Knight-Commander scowled. "Hawke's status is the only thing keeping him safe, but she's quickly losing any respect I held for her."

_Anders. _"We'll do it," Olivia decided hesitantly. "But in the interest of peace. Beyond that, I won't get involved."

Meredith looked as pleased as she could. "I only ask you because I have no desire for war to break out. If there are conspirators, measures must be taken to strike them down."

"I won't strike them down for you," Olivia warned. Considering their talk over, she marched out of the office, ignoring Alistair until they were well away from the Gallows.

"_What _in Andraste's name did you just agree to do?" he demanded, grabbing her arm to get her attention.

Smoothly, Olivia replied, "Didn't you hear? We're taking a casual stroll through Hightown tonight." Narrowing her eyes, she added, "I don't care that we're not supposed to get involved. We saved Ferelden, didn't we? If we can help save Kirkwall, we should."

"Olivia, we aren't _saving_ Kirkwall. We're damning any mages we find."

"I'm just going to talk to them," she assured him. "If there _are_ conspirators, hopefully they'll listen to a voice of reason."

Alistair sighed, his eyes softening. "And just what is that voice of reason going to say?"

She shrugged, a little grin playing at her lips. "I don't know. But there's plenty of time for you to inspire me."

"Maker," he grumbled. "One of these days, I'll be able to stay mad at you."

* * *

"So, Hawke is an Amell?"

"Correct."

"And she's trying to have—what did you say she called it? A _stable relationship_?—with an elf?"

"Yes," Olivia sighed, leaning against a column and tugging off her heavy gauntlets. It was well past midnight, the conspirators had ambushed them, and she was tired beyond belief. "Sorry, Alistair, but unless this has to do with our predicament, I'm afraid I don't want to answer any more questions."

The courtyard was littered with bodies of both mages and templars. The awkward group was, apparently, part of a larger conspiracy to overthrow Meredith. The reality of it all made Olivia's foggy brain hurt.

"Well, it could be important," Alistair muttered. "Is this elf Tevinter, with white hair, lyrium markings, and frequently sighted at The Hanged Man?" His statement sounded like he was reading a list.

"Yes, Alistair. That's Fenris."

"Yep. It's completely important, then. It seems our new friend has been kidnapped by these conspirators."

Not totally certain she'd heard correctly, Olivia snatched the paper Alistair was staring at. Sure enough, a spot-on description of Fenris was scrawled at the top, followed by the words _Prisoner _and _Bait_. She turned the paper over and found a detailed map of the Wounded Coast, complete with a clearly marked delivery spot.

"Alistair," she breathed, "Hawke's been with Fenris all day. We have to find them."

* * *

**A/N: **I'd just like to point out that the inspiration behind Olivia and Meredith's chat comes from the scene with the Wardens during the Qunari attack in DA2. Their "We mustn't intervene" stance seemed a bit at odds with Wynne's "Wardens protect the people" speech in DA:O. Is there something I missed, or does that inconsistency bother anyone else? I tried to interpret it as they would keep peace, but not get involved if peace was no longer an option. *shrugs*


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** One chapter left! This particular chapter gave me fits... But I'm nearly finished with the tenth and final chapter, and I'm pretty happy with it! Expect to see it in a few days.

If you haven't already, go ahead and check out my other story that I'm working on - "Why The Hero of Ferelden Owes Me Lunch"

Thank you so much for all the reads/follows/reviews! Pretty please drop a review if you have any comments or criticisms!

* * *

"I _swear _I'm going to burn this damned door down if somebody doesn't open it!" Olivia fumed, her gloved hands already beginning to release tendrils of smoke. She slammed her fist into the door a few more times, letting out a stream of curses aimed at Bodahn, Hawke, and Meredith.

"Serah—uh, Warden?"

Olivia relaxed at Bodahn's muffled voice. "Open up, Bodahn. I need to speak to Hawke right away." She heard him fumble with the lock, and as soon as the door opened he warned them that Hawke was asleep.

"See?" Alistair smiled. "It's okay. Hawke's fine," he assured Olivia.

She wasn't convinced. "The note said Fenris." Holding up the paper to prove her point, she made her way quickly up the stairs and to the bedroom. "Hawke?" she called, knocking as she opened the door.

Much to her surprise, Hawke's clothes were strewn around her bedroom. A pillow flew past Olivia's face and she quickly shut the door, catching only a brief glimpse of a very shocked Hawke pulling the covers up to her chin. "Don't you _dare_ open that door back up until I tell you to!" she shrieked, her voice several octaves higher than normal.

Olivia turned back to Alistair, unable to hold back a laugh at his crimson cheeks. "Why don't you go downstairs," she suggested, "and I'll take care of Hawke." He didn't hesitate, mumbling something under his breath about women.

"You can come in now, Olivia. And… can you bring my pillow back, please?"

Stifling another round of laughter, the Commander grabbed the pillow and went to talk with Hawke. "So, I see your evening with Fenris was a success?"

Hawke, now dressed in her pajamas, ignored her, instead scooping up her robes from where they were sprawled on the floor near her desk. Finally, she grinned up at Olivia. "It was a success. Multiple times."

Raising an eyebrow, Olivia leaned against the doorframe. "Some things, I don't need to know."

"It started out terrible," she admitted, running her fingers through her disheveled red hair. "Danarius showed up, and Fenris wanted to kill his sister, and there was fighting and now there's blood all over The Hanged Man. And now, there's a little more _stable _in our relationship." Cocking her head thoughtfully, Hawke added, "There's more _relationship _in our relationship, actually."

Olivia bit her lip, not wanting to mar Hawke's happiness. "And where's Fenris now?"

This brought her up short. "He… Maker," she breathed, the smile dropping from her face. "Did he leave? He said he would be right back."

"I don't think he left, exactly."

"What happened?" Hawke demanded, reaching for her staff.

In response, Olivia handed her the paper note.

The Champion's emerald eyes flicked quickly over the page, her expression unreadable. "I need a minute, Olivia."

"Of course." Olivia shut the door behind her and joined Alistair in the study downstairs. "He's gone," she said simply.

"Are we going after him?" At Olivia's incredulous look, Alistair scrambled to rephrase. "I mean, I _know_ we want him safe. I don't mind going after him. My real question, I guess, is are we interfering? You know, as Wardens?"

Staring intently at the fire, Olivia made a decision. Hawke was the only family Olivia was aware of having, and it was oddly warming to know she had relatives. As a Circle mage, she'd been forced to give up her family and her whole life before the Circle. The life of a Warden was similarly demanding. But now that she saw what she was missing out on, Olivia didn't want to give it up. "I'm interfering," she stated flatly, "as an Amell."

At that moment, Hawke flew down the stairs and out the door, fully robed with her staff and the paper in hand.

"She's going after him," Alistair realized, starting to follow her.

"Go. Don't let her hurt herself," Olivia commanded. "I'm going to get help."

"What help?"

A smile tugged on the edge of her lips. "A dwarf who will kill me if he doesn't get to see this."

* * *

"_Please_, Hotshot?"

"No."

"You can't drag me out of The Hanged Man—without letting me finish my drink, I might add—and into the Maker-forsaken heat of the Wounded Coast, telling me a good story the whole while, and _leave out the juicy details_." Varric was a few steps behind Olivia, panting heavily as they raced through the sand. "I'll tell you about Bianca," he offered breathlessly.

Olivia couldn't help but snicker. "No you won't." She hadn't known the dwarf very long, but she knew all questions about his crossbow would be answered with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

"I will too!" Varric insisted. "It might not be true, but I'll come up with a story."

"Look," Olivia sighed, pausing for a moment to catch her breath, "I didn't ask Hawke about what went on… once they were back at the estate. If you want the details, ask _her_." She looked around, trying to remember where the map had pointed to. "I think we go this way," she muttered, her brow furrowing. Motioning for Varric to follow, she took off down a small side path.

As the pair winded down the sandy path, Olivia began to hear voices shouting. No fighting, yet, just angry voices—then a strangled cry. It didn't sound like either Alistair or Hawke, but Olivia sprinted even harder, emerging into a large clearing as the fighting was beginning.

Without even thinking, Olivia jumped into the fray, sending a fireball into a cluster of blood mages on the far end of the clearing. A group of templars descended on her, and the Commander froze them in a case of ice with a quick swipe of her hand. In the battle's momentary pause, she saw that Hawke and Alistair were safe. Fenris was lying on the ground, and Olivia couldn't tell if he was breathing or not.

She turned her attention back to the templars. Varric had already taken care of one of them, but the other three remained frozen. With a grunt of effort, Olivia launched an arc of electricity at the templar closest to her and he crumpled to the ground. She managed another bolt of ice before they broke through, cleaving at her with their swords. Olivia grabbed her shield, shrugging off most of the hits. She was on the defensive, but she was able to find a few openings to attack.

With another fireball and a little more electricity, the mages and templars alike were vanquished. One of them approached Hawke timidly, explaining something to her. Olivia strained to hear, but his voice was too low. Sweating from the battle, the Commander shed her gauntlets and plopped down on the sand to inspect her badly bruised shield-arm.

As she ran a mild healing spell over the tender flesh, the mage summoned blood magic that lifted Fenris from the ground. As soon as he had awoken, Hawke rushed forward to him. Olivia breathed a sigh of relief as she realized that they were both alright, and turned her attention to Alistair, who was in the middle of an animated conversation with Varric. Her breath caught as she saw the way he was cradling his shoulder. _Maker. How many times can that man dislocate the same joint?_

"Alistair," she called, not bothering to stand.

He turned, his eyes widening with concern as he saw her sitting on the ground. She shook her head, trying to let him know she was alright. Alistair and Varric both came over to where she sat, Alistair joining her in the sand.

"You messed up your shoulder again, didn't you?" Olivia sighed.

"Only a little bit, this time." He winced as Olivia tried to inspect his shoulder, pulling away and continuing to support it with his right arm. "I think the armor's holding it in place, actually. So _don't_ touch."

"No," Olivia decided, "you're going to Anders. Maybe he can heal it better than I can."

"Actually," Varric interjected, "I'm not sure it's a good idea to visit Blondie right now. He's more Justice than Anders, and half the time I go to check on him and the clinic's closed. Something isn't right."

Biting her lip, Olivia wondered briefly if his strange behavior had anything to do with the reagents she'd helped him gather. Before she could think for too long, Hawke called out to their group. "We should get back. Fenris needs to rest." One of his arms was draped over Hawke's shoulders, but from the way he drug his feet in the sand, Olivia suspected it was more out of necessity than affection.

"Let's go," Olivia agreed, her concerned directed towards Alistair. They stood and followed Varric back towards the path that led back to Kirkwall.

* * *

"So, there's two very important things we need to talk about."

"Hmm?" Digging a lyrium potion out of her still-overstuffed pack, Olivia turned back to where Alistair was sprawled out on the bed.

"First, I find it very disappointing how I've only seen you twice in the last three months, and both times it's involved you healing my shoulder."

With an apologetic smile, Olivia began running her healing spell along Alistair's shoulder, inspecting the extent of the damage this time. "And second?"

"That can wait. I'd rather focus on the first." His face twisted in pain as Olivia summoned a more powerful wave of magic.

"I'll just get Hawke." With a tired groan, Olivia left the unused potion on the nightstand and marched out of the bedroom into the study, ignoring Alistair as he pointed out that he wasn't finished talking. She made her way upstairs, gently knocking on the door to Hawke's room.

The door opened quickly. "Alistair's shoulder," Hawke guessed, her green eyes bright with worry.

Olivia nodded.

"Alright." She pushed past the Commander, rushing down the stairs. "Is it normal for someone to be so… weak? I mean, I don't know what happened, exactly, with Fenris, but…"

"I have no idea," Olivia admitted. "I got knocked into the Fade once by a sloth demon, and it took weeks before I felt normal again," she offered, trying to ease Hawke's concern. "He'll be fine."

"I hope." She was already in the other bedroom, dashing about frantically. "You don't mind if I use this, do you?" she asked, pointing to the potion.

Shaking her head, Olivia sat on the bed next to Alistair. His eyes flickered between the two woman pointedly, asking what was wrong. Olivia looked back at Hawke and felt her brow crease with concern. Alistiar reached over and took one of her hands, his eyes soft.

"Oh," he gasped suddenly. "That feels so much better. I should've gone to one of the healers the first time this happened."

"Let go of her," Hawke instructed, her voice soft yet insistent.

"Why?"

"Because it's about to hurt. A lot. And I don't feel like healing a broken hand tonight," she added with a sigh.

Olivia tugged her hand free and turned to face away from them. Squeezing her eyes shut, she waited.

"Hawke. Hawke…" Alistair's voice continued to grow louder. "Haw—Oh, _Maker_! Ow, oh, don't touch me anymore."

When the worst was over, Olivia turned back to him and took his right hand. "And you blamed _me_ for it hurting," she smiled down at him.

"To be fair, this hurt a lot _less_," he shot back. "And I think I'm just going to stop using my shield from now on. Having a stab wound healed doesn't hurt."

"A dislocated shoulder won't kill you." With a sly grin, she added, "But a dagger lodged in your rib cage _will_."

"Lodged? It barely scraped the flesh," Alistair scoffed. "Besides, I blame Nathaniel for that one."

Olivia didn't notice as Hawke slipped from the room and closed the door behind her. "No, I think it's all your fault." She curled up next to Alistair, breathing in the soft lilac scent of the tunic Hawke had found for him.

"And why's that?" he muttered softly, absentmindedly beginning to twirl a piece of her caramel hair.

"You were protecting me," she managed through a yawn, the fatigue of the past two days threatening to overwhelm her. "I don't blame Nathaniel for that. Are you ever going to tell me about the second thing you wanted to talk about?"

Alistair breathed a heavy sigh. "We need to go home. We're too involved in this already, and we can't stick around and wait for something worse to happen."

"Mhmm." Olivia closed her eyes and snuggled closer to Alistair. "Sleep first. We'll leave in the morning."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Here it is! The final chapter. As I was wrapping it up, I had this beautiful idea that *might* turn into a sequel. No promises, though.

As always, reviews full of love/criticism/suggestions are much appreciated! Also, I'd like to know if you'd be interested in a sequel, or just an epilogue of sorts that wraps things up a bit more, or if this is plenty.

I hope you've enjoyed this, and thanks for reading!

* * *

"To the Void with your excuses! I want to know where my damn patrol is!" Uncharacteristically loud, the Warden-Commander surprised even herself with her harsh words. "Until you can provide me with that information, you're more useless than a recruit."

The two men in front of her cringed visibly. "Commander," one of the ventured timidly, "should we get Stroud?"

"No, you should get your patrol." Olivia glared at the men, waiting for them to leave. As soon as the door to her office was shut, she collapsed back into her chair with a loud sigh. "Lily, my dear," she mumbled to her Mabari, "we are overwhelmed." Her mind flooded with the news – or lack thereof – of her missing Wardens from her Kirkwall patrol, Olivia reached below her desk and ran her hand through Lily's rough fur. "You shouldn't be down there, you know," she chastised the hound lightly. "Do you know what the men would do if they knew I had a Mabari whimpering under my desk?"

At this, Lily flattened her ears and growled softly. Olivia chuckled, and Lily quit and licked the Commander's hand instead.

The door to the office flew open suddenly, catching Olivia off-balance. Lily leapt from under the desk, barreling past Olivia to greet the newcomer. As she struggled to right herself, the Commander saw that her visitor was none other than Marian Hawke.

* * *

"Where's Anders?" For the second time that night, Olivia's voice rose with more power than usual.

"I don't know," Hawke struggled between tears. "He… he left, after the battle."

"And you?" Olivia prodded, concern for Hawke making the words sharper than she intended. "You're unwelcome in the city?"

Hawke laughed – a hysteric giggle that rose in volume. "I spoke out against the Knight-Commander, aided the First Enchanter – a blood mage, mind you – and _killed_ Meredith. If I'm welcome in Kirkwall, it would be a surprise to all of us."

"Orsino is also dead, though?"

"Yes."

Sighing, Olivia glanced around her office, hoping to find something that could help aid Hawke's return to Kirkwall. "I don't want to make you leave your home," she admitted, "but I think you're right." She stood, motioning for Hawke to stay put. Lily nuzzled the mage, giving her a comforting lick on the cheek. "Watch over her," she smiled to the Mabari before heading out into the Keep.

Vigil's Keep was empty. Three weeks of rain had kept most of the Wardens cooped up inside, but at the first sign of sunny skies, all training had been taken back outside. Olivia had to go out to the training yard to find anyone. "Nathaniel!" she called to her friend, waving him away from the archery lesson he was giving. "Send one of your men to find Alistair," she instructed as he jogged over to her. "And the Keep is all yours until I return. Take care of it."

His eyes lit up with concerned questions, but Olivia dismissed them with a wave of her hand. "I'll keep everyone safe," Nathaniel promised. "Just… come back in one piece, alright?"

Olivia wanted to joke with him, to tell him nothing stood a chance against the Hero of Ferelden, but she had a nagging suspicion it would be the last joke she shared with him. Instead, she just nodded. "Be safe, Nathaniel." Without waiting for him to answer, Olivia jogged back to her office, taking long, easy strides.

As she rounded the corner to the office, her eyes caught the open door and her ears picked up two hushed voices. "Hawke?" she called, immediately worried. "Hawke!" She sprinted into the office, nearly slamming into Fenris. "Oh…" Olivia sputtered, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "Hello."

"We have to leave," Hawke insisted, skipping any pleasantries. "It isn't safe for us."

Olivia skirted around them to sit at her desk. "What about the others?" she asked, referencing the companions who would undoubtedly be held equally responsible.

Hawke looked up to Fenris, who shifted uncomfortably. "Varric was allowed to remain in Kirkwall," he revealed. "Cullen allowed Anders to escape with his life. Isabela was told to leave, as was Merrill. Aveline will remain Guard-Captain until Kirkwall is stable enough for her to step down."

"Cullen is a fine leader. Kirkwall will be in good hands, even without its Champion," Olivia mused. She had fond memories of Cullen from back when they were both in the Ferelden Circle; fond enough that, on a typical day, the memories brought a blush to her cheeks. Today, though, her face was pale with grim determination. The Warden-Commander pulled a thin folder from one of her desk drawers and rifled through the papers. "I have contacts in Antiva and Orlais. Zevran, you've already met. Leliana, I'm sure, would be an accommodating hostess." She pulled out the most recent reports from Antiva and Orlais, the ones documenting the whereabouts of her old companions. "You could also remain in Ferelden," she offered.

Shaking her head, Hawke insisted, "We have to leave. Far away. I don't want to risk being caught." With a barely-noticeable frown, she added, "I don't want to be running, either. I want to be _safe_."

"I understand. I can accompany you until—Alistair?" Olivia nearly jumped out of her seat as Alistair strode into the room and slammed a few papers down on the desk.

"Reports," he grimaced, his eyes dark. "From the missing Kirkwall patrol. They came in a few minutes ago with a report saying _you_ are responsible for blowing up the Chantry and murdering the Grand Cleric."

Never before had Olivia been _afraid_ of Alistair, not until this very moment. Every muscle in his body was tensed with anger, his face contorted with something that landed between worry and fury. "Alistair…" she began, but she couldn't say anything else; her mouth was dry and her hands shook.

"I'm not a fool, Olivia." His voice was strained. "I know you didn't do it. But Kirkwall thinks you played a part in the destruction of the Chantry."

And in that moment, Olivia lost everything. No longer was she the Warden-Commander, or the Hero of Ferelden, or even a Circle mage. She was a fugitive. "I have to leave." Olivia began pacing, taking quick, frustrated steps as she contemplated what to do next. "Hawke and Fenris will come with me. Orlais won't be safe. We'll go to Antiva and find Zevran. Alistair, find Isabela. Track her down. She can take us to Rivain. We'll be safe there, for now. After that—"

Alistair grabbed her arm roughly, breaking her concentration. "Olivia, I swear," he began, locking his eyes with hers, "I will _never_ let these accusations stand. You don't have to leave."

"Yes, I do," she argued flatly, her voice that of a woman with nothing left. "Ferelden needs a Commander, Alistair, and it can't be me. Keep Lily safe. Don't let Nathaniel do anything foolish. And whatever you do, please," she pleaded, her voice cracking, "_please_ don't follow us. I'll come back. I promise."

"Olivia, I—"

She shook her head and silenced him by placing a single, slender finger on his lips. "This is my fault. It started the day I asked Anora to free the Ferelden Circle. Then I let Anders escape—twice. Once from the Circle, and again from the Wardens. And in Kirkwall, I helped him; I didn't know what I was helping him do, but I trusted him and it led to this." Without another word, Olivia tore herself away and fled down the hallway. She grabbed her pack on the way out, but left with no armor and no weapons. Hawke and Fenris were close behind her, following silently.

When Olivia reached the gates, she allowed herself to look back. There were so many things she wished she could do right then; turn back, apologize to Alistair, and never leave the Keep again. But she couldn't.

Anders had made sure of that.

Motioning for Hawke and Fenris to follow, Olivia took off, not sure where she was running and not certain she cared. _Away_ is all her mind screamed.

After those reports, all she'd had left was Alistair. And now, she had given him up, too. She was no longer the Hero, she was an apostate wanted for murder. She had nothing to her name except the clothes on her back and a few sovereigns, with only an apostate and escaped slave to accompany her on the trip to Antiva.

Olivia Amell—Circle mage and Grey Warden, a survivor of Ostagar, the Fifth Blight, and the Ferelden Civil War, the slayer of the Archdemon, the Hero of Ferelden, and the Warden-Commander—took one last look at her home. Despite what she'd told Alistair, Olivia knew she wouldn't be coming back to Vigil's Keep.

She'd played her part in starting the Mage-Templar war, and by the Maker, she was going to play her part in ending it.

* * *

It was nearly sunset before he could even see the Keep. He expected to be met by guards, or a patrol, but that wasn't the case.

Standing near the gates of the Keep was a man with sandy hair and drooping shoulders. Beside him sat a Mabari, whose mournful howls echoed through the still air. The man had a hand on the Mabari's head, slowly, mechanically rubbing behind the hound's ears.

Neither one noticed as he walked up, both the man and Mabari focused on the horizon. He cleared his throat, and the man slowly turned his head. "Yes?"

"I'm looking for someone," he explained.

"The… the Warden-Commander isn't here," the man whispered after a moment, turning his empty gaze back to the horizon. "She's gone."

Dread slowly rose up in him. He wasn't looking for the Warden-Commander, but it didn't matter. If she was gone, then his search was hopeless. He sighed. But, he hadn't come all the way from Kirkwall just so he could trudge back; there was nothing left there for him, anyway. No, it was time he did something _relevant_ with his life.

"My name is Carver Hawke. I'd like to join the Grey Wardens."

At this, the man's eyes flared with a spark of something akin to inspiration. "Tell me, Carver. How would you feel about a little trip to Antiva?"


	11. Sequel Update!

**There's been an awful lot of views on this, even though it's complete, so I've decided to go ahead and do a sequel! ^.^**

**It's titled "The Wardens and the Apostates" and the first chapter is posted!**

**There's a pretty heavy focus on Alistair and Carver's search for Olivia and Hawke, and Carver gets a second chance at Merrill. Also, there's Fenris ****_and_**** Zevran. **

**What's not to love?**


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